Our Glass Haven
by Emperor Kumquat
Summary: A snowstorm has brought the building down upon the members of the world meeting. The situation is dire yet Russia intends to use the time to befriend everyone trapped here with him. Resources dwindle and the temperature drops, but nothing is more dangerous than Russia's increasing insanity on his pursuit for friendship.
1. Добро пожаловать- Welcome

**In this story, some situations will mimic things that happened in the Cold War. Note that this fic is supposed to be in modern times. It reminds me of the current relations between Russia and America, the failure to cooperate to instead continue the battle to be the world's leader and the most powerful.**

 **Some events and terms that are represented will be explained in my own words before and after chapters if they are not explained during. As the Cold War is a broad topic, not everything can make it in and I will be focusing more on the events of the Cold War in Europe. I did not want to include too many characters because attention would be diverted onto them. I apologize, but I picked the countries I found to be the most beneficial to the plot.**

 **Without further ado, here is the first term:**

 **Russophobia** : the fear or dislike of Russia, its culture and people. Seen predominantly in the West, where the media creates the image of an enemy using methods of selective information and dramatic word choice, in order to gain public support. It often stems from a hatred of the former Soviet Union since it was the rival superpower of the Cold War and because of the atrocities committed in its sphere of influence.

* * *

Snow set the world into a sort of silence that had always unnerved him. Away from the city and in the uninterrupted landscape of rural Russia, everything was especially still. It was hard to remember what warmth was when every ounce of it had been sapped. Equally difficult, to remember that life existed when so much had tucked itself away to be forgotten for many months. He always had that nagging fear that it would stay this way forever every time winter came his way; that warmth and life would never return and all would remain cold.

That was why he always preferred the storms. Harsh though they were, they alleviated his sorrow and boredom. The shrieks of the wind sliced through the quietude and the onslaught of snow battered the world in such a fervent manner that he could almost believe, for a time, that there was life in the storm itself.

Yet he knew to suppress such excitement. The storm was not alive and everything was still lifeless and cold in the end. It was only General Winter attacking again, unseen as he displayed his might upon his country. Russia should not be so pleased by that, but living alone and seldom visited made one long for any noise that could be imagined away as company.

He creaked open the door again and viewed the halcyon fields of snow. Russia watched the road for a while, looking at the conjuncture where one road split off and led up to the parking lot before him. He waited for a car to turn and come toward him, but not a single vehicle passed by. He sighed and ducked back inside once his face and hands had thoroughly been numbed.

Russia leaned back into the wall and allowed his mind to blanken. His eyes slid shut and he dragged his fingertips down the wall, applying pressure until they stopped. The tune of his national anthem rumbled in his throat while the chill that had followed him in faded around him. He tested the silence occasionally, pausing his humming now and then to hear the noise get swallowed up until nothing remained.

His eyes flashed open and he sprang to the door. Russia threw it open again and filled the doorway, silent and glaring through the white brightness. A subzero breeze bit his face, then he backed himself inside again with a frown adorning his face.

"But the weather is fine," he murmured as he reclaimed his spot on the wall. "The roads are in good condition, even here… I was not lied to, was I?"

He did not expect so. At least, not from the person hovering in his mind's eye. Russia checked his phone anxiously and found that the first guest was only a few minutes late. Relief flooded him and his heart trembled in excitement. It had been too long since he had guests or had even interacted face-to-face with the others. Russia looked forward to the upcoming meeting despite how they were usually bland in topic.

Russia spent a time imagining those that might come, but he perked up when he heard the telltale sound of tires crushing snow. In an instant the door was thrown open and he was there to view a small, black car siding his own in the parking lot. Russia regarded the person that stepped out with a pleased smile, ever more mildly as she walked on her beeline to him. A breeze carried with it a few snowflakes and they dusted her blonde hair which was curled over the black coat snug on her shoulders.

Russia stepped back from the door to let Belarus pass through the threshold. Once inside with the door blown shut, he promptly drew her into a hug. The snow that had peppered her hair and eyelashes like icing sugar vanished, leaving only damp spots behind.

"I'm so glad you made it…" he sighed.

He slipped away. His gaze fell down upon her as she stared into his eyes with an acute one. Belarus asked, "Am I the first?"

Russia nodded. He then said, "I needed your help for some things, so I invited you earlier."

"Ah."

The black coat found itself on a hanger and put on a horizontal metal bar. Belarus exchanged her boots for the shoes that had been dangling on her fingers by the laces. She then stood, waiting and standing expectantly. Only then did Russia speak again.

"Belarus," he chirped. "Please, follow me…"

And she did, naturally and without hesitation. She hurried to clasp onto his arm by the elbow and be led away to whatever destination he pleased.

"Twenty minutes until they come," he explained as they walked down the hall. "And I was thinking about doing bread-salt, or is that too much?"

"It might be interesting."

"I want to be hospitable," Russia exhaled. "But so many things in my culture they don't understand… especially _him_. I want it to work is all. That we'll have good luck."

"Are you doing it for his sake?"

Russia moved his head in a half circle, mixing the shake of his head with a nod. He replied, "For everyone, but above all, him. I am worried but… you know what they say about giving bread and salt to an enemy."

He saw her nod of comprehension.

"So will it work?" he asked after the pause.

"I say do it and see what happens."

Russia smiled. "You know _your_ job then?"

"Yes."

He beamed, glad for her cooperation. They made it to the end of the hall and came to a stairwell. Belarus hooked her arm around his as they trotted down the stairs, and at the bottom it escalated to a complete hugging of his arm. It was not however in a way that was too tight and therefore uncomfortable. Russia found her to be a pleasant warmth; one that had not been felt by him for a while. He curled his arm so that his hand could touch her shoulder as they continued on.

This hall was very long but at the middle point they had reached one of the few rooms with an open door. Russia stepped in first then Belarus followed him into a small sort of cafeteria.

"Oh, odd," she mumbled.

The scent of baked products floated in the air. Belarus followed him to the back where a kitchen was set up behind a counter. Her eyebrows lifted to see that there were already many things set out and cooling on racks: an assortment of pirozhkis, cookies, and a large and finely decorated circle of bread.

"Hmm…" Russia sighed upon observing everything with her. "I wonder if it will be enough?"

Belarus muttered, "How much do you intend to give to everyone?"

"A lot, I hope." Russia smiled. "Warm food is the way to the heart, right? I want everybody to be happy here. And if they like the food at my place, then maybe there will be others things they can like too..."

"And how many people are coming?"

Russia shrugged, looked the other way, then frowned.

"I don't know…" he breezed. "I don't know how many people want to come."

"They might make up excuses," Belarus uttered. "About the weather."

Russia nodded slowly, displaying his knowledge of this.

Belarus added, "I'm sorry."

"I didn't put the chairs in the room yet," he said. "I didn't want to put in too many because it would be embarrassing to have so many empty ones."

Russia headed to the sink. There was handsoap trapped in a colourful bottle to the side from which he squeezed a foamy glob out into his palm. He washed his hands, wiped them dry on a cloth towel, then he went to the bread. Belarus watched him dig a hole into the top of it and put the removed piece to the side.

A bag of salt was removed from a shelf full of supplies and poured into a metal salt holder. He set this into the hole in the bread then stood back to observe it with satisfaction. Russia then broke the lone piece of bread into two, passing one bit to her and keeping the other for himself. They both dipped their pieces into the salt before popping them into their mouths.

"It's okay?" Russia asked.

She nodded.

He continued, "We don't have to be strict on the tradition. Your dress is already pretty so it's fine without the costume."

Belarus perked. "You think it's pretty?"

She was wearing the dress she always did, the blue and white one that Russia had given her as a gift a long time ago. He appeared confused, and replied, "Of course."

Belarus grew even more excited. Russia could not fathom why she was so happy by a quick compliment like that, but he went on to unfold the rushnyk, the embroidered towel for the bread. Handling the originally Ukrainian ritual cloth cast a fresh frown onto Russia's face, which in turn caused Belarus's joy to vanish. The mood sank and Russia murmured, "Will she be coming?"

Belarus replied quietly, "I don't know. She never told me."

Russia pursed his lips. He spread the towel over a hand then put the bread onto it. He passed it all to Belarus, who accepted it carefully. They then both departed from the room, walking down the hall again, slowly up the stairs, then the length of the previous hall. They stopped by the front door to wait for the arrivals, if there would be any.

"Maybe Germany will come first," Russia hummed. "Or Britain?"

They were silent for many seconds. Russia dragged out his phone again, checked the time, then selected the camera icon. He pointed his phone at Belarus, who understood instantly and reacted.

"No, not without you!" she cried.

"Hmm?"

She snatched his arm and pulled. He stumbled back into her and his eyes rolled to the side to make sure that the bread had not fallen. Belarus was holding it near herself with one hand and was already smiling softly. Russia had the camera rotated before he raised his phone-bearing arm. He let a gentle smile form on his lips before he captured them both in a picture.

Belarus did not release him. Russia stood up straight with her still clinging to his forearm, as he checked the picture. He was pleased to see that it had turned out perfectly, showing both of them close and content with Belarus holding the bread and salt. She looked at it with him and appeared equally pleased by the result.

"You look very nice," Russia said. "Maybe I should send it to Ukr…"

He trailed off.

"I don't know how she'd feel, so maybe not," he sighed. "But I'll keep it."

Belarus was ecstatic again. Her grip disappeared but then she wrapped her free arm around him and put her head on his chest. Russia held his breath for a moment but then felt only tenderness when the calm atmosphere remained.

Finally, someone was giving him affection on their own free will. Drunk off the rush of warmth, Russia hugged her back and sang smoothly, " _Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya_!"

Belarus smiled.

" _V sadu yagoda malinka, malinka moya_!"

She chuckled. Russia heard it and stopped to squeeze her and laugh. It was nice when they were both calm and blissful like this, Russia could not help but pine though, wishing that it could be like this forever and with more than just one person.

His laugh faded when they heard approaching tires. Belarus let go of him and they both positioned themselves; Belarus holding the bread and salt with Russia looking over from behind her. The door was pulled open soon after and Britain stood there with the sugar specks of snow amassed on his hat and in the creases of his coat.

Britain shook his coat off himself, but not without the spitting of, "Bloody hell, why did you insist on a meeting _here_? It's minus eighteen degrees out there and it's starting to snow!"

"It'll be alright." Russia let a smile lift itself up for Britain. "There won't be any storm, so the roads will be fine."

Britain hung up his hat and stuffed his gloves into his coat's pocket. He stood now in formal attire, facing them and flashing his eyes over the two of them.

"Is that _sugar_ in the bread?"

Russia shook his head, still smiling. Belarus growled, "Take some bread. Dip it into the salt."

Britain raised both thick eyebrows and regarded Russia's smile warily. "What for?"

"You eat it," Russia purred. "We do this sometimes in East Europe, to show hospitality."

"Salt… on bread…?"

"Do it," Belarus uttered.

"Pardon me?"

She hissed, "Don't be rude!"

Britain approached the bread with his eyebrows still launched high up his forehead. He pulled off a small chunk from the bread and observed it intently. He touched it into the salt without taking his eyes off it. Before he ate it however, he asked, "And it's just regular bread, right? You didn't do anything to it?"

"It's just white bread," Russia's replied calmly.

Britain slipped it into his mouth but was now watching Russia, searching his face for any micro-expressions. He swallowed and turned his head.

"And now, where is-"

Russia clapped once and grinned. He strode up to Britain and reached out a hand to place on his shoulder. He exclaimed, "I haven't seen you in so long! Welcome!"

The hand made it onto his shoulder and Russia's face neared his. Britain took a moment to register what was happening, then he leapt a metre back before Russia's lips could touch his cheek. Russia froze, blatantly startled by his reaction. Britain rushed to sweep away the awkwardness by giving Russia's hand a solid shake instead before moving past him.

"Now where is the meeting room?" Britain finished, acting as though he had not noticed what Russia had tried to do. Belarus glared at his back and Russia turned, grimacing after him.

"It's upstairs," Russia murmured. "On the top floor, I mean…"

"What room?"

"There's only one room up there with the door open."

"I'll see you there."

Russia looked after him as he strode down the hall to the stairwell. He sighed. Belarus growled. Just as Britain disappeared behind the door, they heard someone else arriving outside. They perked up attentively and Russia slipped behind Belarus again.

Germany came onto the scene. Russia called out, " _Willkommen, Deutschland_!"

He froze from surprise. He gazed over Russia, then Belarus, then Russia again. Many things were baffling and shocking him, but the first thing that tumbled out of his mouth was, "Um… Where's your suit?"

Russia was indeed commonly dressed. On him were warm, cozy clothes: grey track pants and a black hoodie with his tricolour flag on each arm by the shoulders. When confronted however, he tossed his head to one side and smiled.

"Why do we need to be so formal?" he mused. "I think today's meeting is going to be small, so why can't we relax a bit, hmm?"

Germany quirked a brow as he slid off his coat. He examined the bread in Belarus's hands, then uttered, "What is this?"

"You really haven't seen it before?" Russia implored.

"Wait, is this that strange bread and salt thing?" Germany asked he hung his coat up.

" _Da_! Salt for long-lasting friendships!"

Germany ripped off a bit and dipped it in the salt. Before he ate it, he too asked, "And you didn't do anything to this?"

Russia's smile twitched. "No, it's just regular bread."

He finally ate it. Russia moved forward now as he had with Britain, but Germany was quick to the call. He slapped a hand over Russia's mouth and uttered, "None of that, thank you."

Germany snatched his hand, shook it firmly, then walked on.

"Where is-"

"Top floor, with the open door."

The front door flew open. Russia stepped back and fixated his eyes on Canada as he strode in followed by America. Russia's hairs raised automatically, from more than just the chill befalling him. He had not expected they would arrive so soon and he had not felt prepared for this.

"Oh, you're both here early," Russia commented.

"Hello," Canada said softly.

"Yo, Russian dude," America chirped. "What's up with the frozen Hell out there? We should've come over to my place…"

America saw the bread. Canada had already asked about it, but he had been drowned out by America's entering words. Now it was America's turn to ask loudly, "Whoa, what's that?"

Russia watched him take off his winter clothes. He saw the snow melting away as he answered him, "It's bread and salt. It is presented here sometimes, for the important occasions."

"Did you poison it?"

"No." Russian frowned. "I didn't."

America shrugged. "Well, I'm not risking it. No thanks, man."

Belarus glared. "He ate it too. With me. It is not poisoned."

Russia watched America's hands crawl into his pockets as he replied, "Still, naw. Salt on bread? Gross."

Canada started, "America…"

"It's his culture," Belarus muttered. "And you've come to us. Be respectful and eat it!"

America seemed more driven from Belarus's words. In the end, he took off a chunk of bread and dabbed it into the salt, trying to get the minimal amount. Canada took his piece and put it in deeply as a deterrent to causing offence. They both ate it at the same time, but as Britain had, America did not stop watching Russia's face.

Russia started to move forward slowly. America said immediately after a swallow though, "Oh, and we were here early because we followed after Germany. I was just at his house, discussing sanctions."

Russia stopped in his tracks. Canada's eyes widened and he watched on worriedly. A cold gaze fell upon America, which he did not appear unnerved by in the slightest, but then it broke when Russia smiled.

"We will be meeting on the top floor," he said. "The door will be open."

America padded forward past him. Canada hesitated, then began to move. Russia felt calmer now that America was departing and he regarded Canada placidly. Russia stepped up to him, touched his shoulder and leaned in.

" _Zdravstvuyte_ , Canada."

He lightly kissed his cheeks, right-left-right, then withdrew. It had been a while since he had seen him and he did feel happy for it. Especially so when Canada did not look bothered after his greeting.

"I'm sorry," Canada sighed. "I hope he doesn't say anything else today. He shouldn't be like this when he's a guest."

"It's okay, we'll get along," Russia murmured. "Maybe he'll like the treats I made?"

"Probably," Canada agreed. "Sometimes I bribe him with food too, to get him to listen."

Canada walked after America then, leaving the two Slavic nations behind. Now came the time where guests were arriving in bunches. Japan and Italy came in at around the same time, both cautiously taking the bread. Japan bowed respectfully but with Italy, Russia managed to greet him the way he wanted to. The problem was that this guest seemed to become faint under his hand and dragged himself away shivering, moaning, " _Germany_ …" faintly on his breath after being kissed by him.

Hungary and Austria arrived. Russia was surprised and pleased, and after they had taken bread with salt, he called out his welcome and hurried to them.

"I am so happy you came!" he exclaimed. Russia quickly pecked Hungary's cheeks then went to Austria. The other arrival gasped and stepped back, putting out his hands.

"No!" he yelped, a little too loudly at first before collecting himself. "Not that please. Anything but that..."

So Russia yanked Austria into a hug. He inhaled sharply and fidgeted, but Russia kept a tight enough hold as he hummed contently. When released, Austria stumbled back, huffing in indignation and blushing. He quickly went after Italy and Japan with Hungary strolling after him, more composed.

Cuba showed up and Russia could hardly contain his joy. Here was someone who had dragged himself to this meeting from over the ocean, despite the weather. Russia hopped over once Cuba had taken his piece of bread, becoming even more pleased because Cuba had not appeared suspicious of it like the others.

"Ah, hello, my friend!" Russia sang.

Cuba smiled back at him, another one of the few guests to do so. Russia was allowed to come near and he felt such contentedness to find that his habits were known well enough that his kisses were reciprocated out of politeness. He did not get to see him often, but Russia was thrilled that their relations had been increasingly more positive throughout the years. The merriment made him need to hug him, and doing so got him a chuckle and a good squeeze back.

While here, the door was heard opening. Russia spotted over Cuba's shoulder Poland coming in with the entourage of Baltics behind him.

" _Chlebem i solą_?" Poland blinked. "Why?"

Russia replied as they took their outerwear off, "So we will have a good meeting together!"

"You're not dressed in formal clothes," Lithuania observed. "Why is that, Mr. Russia?"

"I knew that not many would show up. I didn't think we could be having a serious meeting with so few anyway."

"Then what's the point?" Estonia asked. "If you knew it would fail, why did you insist it was worth it?"

Belarus thrust the bread out to them. They took their pieces but watched Russia cautiously.

"I wanted to see you all." Russia smiled. "I missed you."

"Well." Poland puffed out his chest and spoke with his mouth full. "We only came because we thought Germany would have flipped out on us otherwise! I would've preferred a meeting anywhere else but here."

Russia's lower eyelid twitched but he managed to hold his smile.

"Go upstairs," he said. "You'll find everyone else."

Russia did not move to greet them. He assumed that an uproar would have ensued if someone had seen him near distressed Baltics. Such a negative image would have been created, worse than the ones already including him.

The four passed him. Once in the stairwell, Cuba offered his condolences, patting his back and joking, "They're rough on you. Must have been exposed to too much American media!"

Russia nodded slowly. Belarus remarked more seriously, "Nowadays, no one listens to him. They'll lie about what he believes in to make him look evil. Makes America look better and keeps his place at the top."

"I feel that." Cuba shrugged. "It's hard not being a part of their inner circle."

"NATO countries…" Russia's murmur went low.

The door opened and France popped inside. Cuba, Belarus, and Russia turned their heads as this arrival stared at the bread and salt.

" _Bonjour, tout le monde_! What do you have there?"

Russia ran through the explanation for him, playing his now memorized loop. France took his bread piece but only seemed half as hesitant as most of the others had. Russia felt safe enough to approach him, someone who practiced a greeting so similar to his. To his relief, France accepted his kisses while returning his own without a protest.

Unfortunately, he too seemed in a hurry to go upstairs and join the others. Russia breathed his sigh out through his nose. So far six out of fifteen guests had at least treated him with some sort of respect. Well, he knew he could not truly count Italy, who had been nervous of him, and perhaps not Hungary, who seemed to have only done it to appease him and not because she was comfortable.

Four then. Minus France, who left him quickly. Was that only three then, of fifteen who had been kind to him? Or just two?

So Russia asked the two remaining with him, "Do you think Canada likes me, or is he really the same as America?"

Cuba said, "Canada is a lot different than him, trust me. I started to get to know him."

"No," Belarus disagreed. "I think he is influenced too much by his brother."

Russia's lips drew out into a line. He did not know what to think now. He pondered for a few moments until the door pulled away. The sight of this guest shocked him to the point his eyebrows rose and he went rigid. The breeze slipping inside lifted the scarf on and off his still frame until he grabbed the ends self-consciously. The guest had as well froze, and was still holding the door open.

Russia said nothing against the cold however. He only pressed the scarf to his sides as though to vainly hide it, for it had been after all, a gift from _her_.

"You came," he whispered.

Ukraine stepped inside finally and the door slammed shut behind her, blown by the increasing wind.

"I did," she said. "I thought the others would have been displeased if I hadn't. Germany… Britain…"

Russia uttered dryly, "And America."

"Yes." Her forehead wrinkled slightly as she concentrated on her words. "Him too."

"Your _friends_ ," Russia muttered, "are upstairs."

Cuba looked to the side. Belarus stepped between them and offered Ukraine the bread and salt. Both sides relaxed slightly, thankful for the interruption. Ukraine took her piece and stuck it into her mouth as she removed her coat. Russia wavered, then stepped forward as she turned and found a hanger.

"Ukraine…" he murmured. "Sister. I… think we need to talk."

She turned and gave him a hurt glance. "It's been impossible to talk to you. Everyone thinks so too."

"You have to listen to me. You-"

Ukraine's eyes flashed, a mix of emotions. He spotted anger, then confusion, then fear. Now he could see through her and find those true emotions about him hidden behind her seemingly focused face, in the depths of her conflicted mind.

"Stop it... I'm not even supposed to be talking with you. My boss told me to avoid you today..."

Russia's heart felt as though it had been clenched. He did not want to have to deal with this but there would be no choice.

"You hate me," he whispered. "I thought you forgave me from that time… But I'm different now. It's over."

She walked past him quickly.

"Just let go of me… I'm not yours to keep."

Russia's tongue tripped on itself. So many things he wanted to say, but should not be said in the presence of others. He did not want to look bad by accident so it was better to save this conversation for later. When they were alone and they could _talk._

Ukraine hurried to the stairwell, following the others up to the meeting room. Belarus muttered now, "I wish you'd stop fighting. But you two couldn't even hold a ceasefire."

"She broke it!" Russia protested.

"She says you broke it."

"The East wants to be with me," Russia huffed. "They voted. But still, no one will let me have it."

Belarus was about to rebut this, but Cuba said, "Try to forget it for today. If you get too upset and bring this conversation to the meeting with so few supporters for yourself, it could turn bad."

"Where's China?" Russia grumbled. "He agrees with me. I know he does."

The beginning of the argument with Ukraine made him long to be supported. He had Cuba and Belarus here, the few in the world that sort of shared his views. China would add another one, and China was stronger than these two were as well. He could feel a lot more comfortable around the mass of NATO countries here with China at his side.

"Storms might have stopped his flight," Cuba offered.

"Japan came though," Russia exhaled.

He gasped when he heard tires in the snow. Long after Britain had arrived, this guest arrived late. Russia's heart pattered and when the door opened and when he saw who was there, he sprang. China yelped in surprise when he was caught into a bear hug but he calmed down once realizing that this was not an attack.

"We were talking about you," Russia told him merrily before donning kisses to his cheeks. "I was hoping you'd make it!"

He slung an arm around him and led him to the bread and salt. He hardly cared that his sweater had gotten a tad wet from the melting snow on China's coat. Russia knew that in the passing years China had become his strongest, closest military ally and so he reveled in the proximity he was permitted nowadays. He did not notice however that the close physical contact was rendering him uncomfortable.

China took a wad of salted bread while Russia drew him into a second hug. He didn't let go until China laughed lightly in his discomfort, "I do feel missed, but uh- can I take my coat off now?"

"Mmm, of course!"

He pulled back and smiled. China turned away and went to hang up his coat with the other ones as Russia swayed side-to-side slightly. He was thrilled to be in the company of people, of these three. He leaned into Cuba for a few seconds, who did not react to it, and Belarus turned the bread to the side so she could also shift closer to him.

Why was it, Russia wondered, that only these three supported him when everyone else upstairs did not? Were those here with him better, more understanding? Was there something that the others were lacking? Perhaps so. And perhaps it was America's fault.

 _He won them over after the Second World War. Back in those… days. Now they'll eat up anything he says about me._

China approached them as anger flared up in Russia. He looked concerned after having had noticed something in his face. China rubbed his arm and asked, "Is something bothering you?"

"Everyone's so serious up there," Russia explained, "and they don't want to be here. Some have even said it to me. They came for other people's sakes, not mine. And it's not what I wanted... I just… hoped that it would go better than this."

"The meeting hasn't started yet, it might not be that bad," China offered.

"I tried looking and acting friendly. I'm wearing this, to show this flag because they still seem to think it's red. I don't get it… I wanted to make friends this way but they rejected the chance I gave them."

"It's true," Cuba said for China's benefit. "I heard some people being rude to him upon arrival."

"I have another plan though," Russia sighed. "I didn't want to have to try it, so that's why I tried so hard in this..."

The three around him gazed at him, forming some sympathetic expressions. Russia concluded, "Ah, but I knew that this would happen. I prepared for it, because I knew there was no reason for the others to like or trust me out of nowhere. But I tried anyway... I don't really know why though."

"Don't worry about it so much," China consoled him. "I don't think you can change stubborn and just plain dumb people like America. But I'll take over soon, everyone's been talking about it! My economy's getting so great that he'll have no chance!"

The words were made to be what Russia wanted to hear and they truly did affect him. Russia now felt happy enough to purr. He had always despised how after the Cold War, he had been thrown down and shunned by the world. Russia hated always being demonized by Western media especially. The plan to end it and switch the roles, even if China would become the strongest instead of him, made him pleased. Russia took the time to picture America, now alone with his debt and mocked and harangued by the world for his past mistakes that they would suddenly remember.

"Then it will hit him," Russia chuckled, "that although he calls himself a hero, he has _never_ been any better than me..."

Russia looked to the door. He listened, but the only thing heard outside was the wind now. Belarus saw what he was doing and commented, "I don't think anyone else is coming."

"We can go up in a few minutes," Russia murmured.

They waited, but no one else arrived. It was just the eighteen of them in the building. Was Russia ever glad that he had not set up any chairs, because there were so many that would have been empty.

"Can you help me?" Russia asked them. "I want to bring up food, but I also have to get the chairs out too."

"I'll get the food," Belarus stated.

"I can help with that too," China added.

Cuba said, "Then I can get the chairs with you."

Russia's smile radiated joy. Together they walked down the hall, although Cuba asked, "When are you going to lock the door?"

"I won't," he answered. "Just in case someone gets locked out and we are all upstairs. Also, no one will come in here to commit a crime! We are so far away and they would think this building is full of employees. The criminal wouldn't know about the closed hours at all."

The hall was quite long. Russia had time to dwell on his blissful feelings again and briefly on other things, before he asked, "But you guys are happy to be here, right? You wanted to see me too?"

Belarus's answer was a firm positive. Everyone else agreed after a moment as well. Russia closed his eyes for a few seconds and sighed, "Ah, thank you. It's so nice to have friends!"

"I wish I could see you more often," Belarus uttered. "So you aren't lonely."

Russia said, "Maybe we can arrange something later."

They entered the stairwell. Before they split off for a bit, Russia asked slowly, "And we'll always be friends from now on, right? No matter what, you'll stay with me?"

A chorus of seemingly friendly _yes_ es and _of course_ s came to him.

"Look, I know I might do bad things sometimes." Russia pushed his shoulders inwards. "Under stress, like I have in the past. Please promise that you won't hate me. That you'll help me through it.''

"Sure," Belarus stated. "I promise. Nothing will make me leave your side, no matter what you do."

China said, "We are allies now. I will protect you as long as you protect me."

"And you tried to help me in the past." Cuba claimed his turn to speak. "Even when it was a risk to you or was inconvenient. I'm not going to forget that."

"Oh, that makes me so happy!" Russia exclaimed. " _Otlichno_! Now let's get everything ready!"

A part of him wondered how true their promises would be, if they would really support him during the meeting that was to come. Based on the attitudes he had seen and the words given to him, he knew how absolutely displeased the others were to be here. Russia imagined that they were going to nitpick everything, being harsh with him whenever they could on the search for a reaction. He just knew that often countries would say things that were reassuring and they would act nice, but were only acting for their own benefits. Russia knew this, because he was guilty for that very thing.

Four together it had to be though, against fourteen. Otherwise, it was going to be a very long day.

* * *

 **Conflict in Ukraine (very simplified)**

West Ukraine (majority) wanted little to do with Russia, opting for more independence. They tried to join the EU and when it didn't happen, West Ukrainians protested. East Ukraine is full of Russian speakers so they tried to join Russia when russophobia rose. West Ukraine refuses to let them leave and Russia thus helps the protesters in East Ukraine (with controversial methods).

 **Minsk Protocol**

Ceasefire in 2014 signed by Ukraine and Russia after talks in the capital of Belarus. It did not hold and both sides blamed each other.


	2. Снежинки- Snowflakes

Russia was seen flashing by the meeting room with Cuba behind him. Britain had espied him and called out, "Where are the chairs?"

He replied from the hall, "Sorry, I haven't gotten them yet!"

Russia extracted a ring of keys from his pocket and stopped before the locked door two rooms down from the meeting room. Before he found the correct key, he heard Britain yelling out to him, "Well, that's awfully disorganized of you!"

They both kept their lips shut as Russia unlocked the room for both of them to enter. Russia flicked on the lights, illuminating the collection of chairs that had been hiding in this room. Cuba commented on them, "These are nice."

Russia pushed one of the swivel chairs carefully towards him. It rolled across the carpet on its wheels and Cuba caught it neatly. Russia said, "I thought these would be good, because they spin. That's fun, right? America likes such things I think."

Russia took a chair and they both transported the two to the meeting room. All eyes were on them when they entered and Russia and Cuba wordlessly left the chairs near the group of standing people. By the time they had brought the next two, they had been pushed up to the large table. Canada and France stepped up and received these chairs from them personally, then the pattern continued.

"That's eighteen," Cuba said in the end.

Russia smiled. Cuba did not know why he was smiling, when he had seemed to be embarrassed by the number before. Russia said nothing as he locked the door and headed back to the main room with him. In entering, they found that China and Belarus were there with trays full of his baked goods. He perked up to see that the seated people were taking what was being offered to them on napkins and that no one was rejecting his food. Although, admittedly few people had begun to eat it.

He noticed then that no one had yet gotten themselves a beverage. Russia hopped over to the water cooler and started filling foam cups to pass out. Cuba went and helped him get them to every person. At the end though, Russia gave Cuba a full cup then sent him on his way.

He wanted to serve himself, so that he was assured that it was not water in his cup. With his back to everyone, he snuck out a tiny bottle out from his pant's pocket whose bulge had been previously hidden under his sweater. He hoped they did not notice, but he emptied the bottle into his so that he now had a filled foam cup of vodka, a liquid clear enough to be mistaken as water by a passerby. And with people sitting so far apart from each other, no one should be able to smell it.

Russia spun around and made it back to the table. Now so many were drinking and eating freely, as though they could not stand staring at the food and had finally convinced themselves that it was fine to consume.

 _They must have been famished… and very thirsty too._

Russia twitched. He sat down and in doing so, tossed half a mouthful of vodka down his throat. Belarus and China put the trays down on a table to the side of the room before they seated themselves behind their own treats and water. Russia found a pirozhki waiting for him and he could see some people were throwing side glances at him now that he was sitting. For their benefit, he started eating so that they would continue doing so.

This room was huge to accommodate this table, but because there were so few they were quite spread out. Russia caught Germany also looking around and he wondered what he was thinking, since he did not hold any sort of pleased expression on his face.

When they accidentally locked eyes, Germany told him, "I don't think this circle table was ideal. We are so far apart from each other."

"I just didn't want there to be a head at the table," Russia replied steadily. "That way everyone is equal and will be heard."

It was an answer that seemed mature and peaceful. Russia liked how it tasted and how it made Germany consider if he should press the topic any more. The spark of control for even a moment satisfied him in a way that made him feel complete. Something that could be addicting, but a kind of addiction he would have welcomed.

"Right," Germany coughed. "Now, who actually came prepared to present today? The numbers mean nothing. We will go ahead and the others will only have to be informed of the results afterwards."

Japan cut in respectfully, "Can we still discuss these technologies though, without any of the Nordics here?"

"We will handle it," Germany stated. "I didn't come all this way for nothing."

Russia smiled. China was sitting beside him and he saw how the smile stayed longer than it should have. He tried to make eye contact with him to find out why he seemed off so suddenly, but it did not happen.

China thought regardless, _It's weird how much he smiles, when his people are only known to do it for a good reason. What could he possibly be happy about right now? Nothing has gone well. There are only eighteen people and most didn't want to be here._

Russia kept smiling as though something was right. Something expected, appreciated. It just seemed so much that he was pleased by the current events.

 _I don't know what he's actually been feeling this whole time_ , China realized. _But no one really does, do they? I don't even know completely although we ended up as allies._

Soon Russia was a thought lingering in the background for all, even China, as Germany took his bag up to the front table beside the interactive whiteboard. He took out his laptop and connected it, getting his prepared presentation to appear on the large screen. For the next while, all anyone did was listen. It was rather quiet with so few people and nothing to ignite chaos, but from the front Germany noticed how tired his audience was growing.

Some tried to keep awake as to not get in trouble by the presenter, but they slowly leaned forward with their hands on their laps. Germany cleared his throat loudly, annoyed because he believed the group was getting bored. They perked up. He threw them a quick glare and Russia, wide-awake and sitting up, commented as though apologetically, "I think some of us are jet-lagged."

Germany finished his presentation while watching everyone carefully. When done, he grabbed his foam cup with the intention to quench his thirst but found it was empty. He went and topped it off before striding back up to unplug the cord to the computer.

"Questions?" he asked as he sat down.

And there were, although mostly because of confusion that resulted in the lack of focus. Russia sipped his vodka but did not feel particularly engaged in any of it. He was not interested in the technology at any rate, deciding that it was too expensive. His worked fine, he thought, even if it was not exactly environmentally friendly.

Russia saw people starting to doze again now that half an hour of discussion had passed by. He finished off the cup of vodka and put his chin on his hand. He blended in with the tired people in that way, trying not to stand out although his clothes already made that hard. He did not close his eyes though. He looked to the window and regarded the closed, mahogany curtains for a few minutes.

"Russia."

He lifted his head and looked over to Germany.

"You haven't said anything yet."

"No," Russia said.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I do not want this technology. Other people can take it, but I won't."

Germany put his hand against his face, propping his head up. "Then why did you insist so much on having the meeting at your place, if you were never interested in this?"

"It doesn't matter where it would have been, I still would have said the same thing."

Estonia was heard saying quietly to Lithuania, " _We should have gone to Finland_."

On the other side, France whispered to Britain, " _Didn't we suggest Denmark before? Those five all agreed to get on this_."

Then Britain said for all to hear, "Maybe we ought to postpone this meeting and hold it somewhere else. Then, when we have everyone, it will work better. Can we change your mind, Germany?"

Russia cut in, "But I have something to talk about too! I have a presentation ready."

"On what, then?" America covered his mouth as he yawned. "Something better than this?"

Russia nodded. He stood up and went to Germany's laptop and they watched him logging out and on to something else. With his back to them, Russia tried to plug the cord back into the laptop, but then he paused.

"Did you do something to this, Germany?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

Russia looked over his shoulder. "It's plugged in, but it is not showing up on the screen."

Germany rubbed his eyes as he sighed, "Let me see."

Russia backed off as Germany came up to investigate. He took the cord and jammed it in, believing that Russia had not done it right, but then noticed that nothing was indeed being transferred over. Russia stood with his hands clasped together as Germany meddled with the computer's settings, mumbling, "It should be automatic…"

"Maybe we should take a break?" Russia offered sweetly. "You can figure this out and I'll get more food. Also, I think some of us are very tired, so a pause might help."

"Fine then," Germany agreed without taking his eyes off the cord in his hands.

Russia faced the table. "Men's washroom is the floor under us," he told them. "And the women's is on the ground floor."

He started to exit the room. Before he left them, he noticed that Latvia was flopped over his crossed arms on the table while Italy lay back in his chair with his eyes closed. Estonia was poking at Latvia and rubbing his back to see how deeply asleep he had fallen, and Latvia did not respond. Estonia yawned and leaned backwards after giving up on him, but by then Russia was gone.

In his absence, most stretched and made themselves comfortable in their seats. Japan stood and stretched out his back before heading to the water cooler for another top-off. America got up and dragged his feet to Germany as Canada's eyes slid shut and he leaned forward. America wanted to see if he could help Germany in any way, so he checked the other side of the cord, making sure it had not been loosened because of a tug.

When it was not the case, he was out of ideas.

"This blows," America sighed. "Nothing's working out, is it?"

He dropped to his knees to match Germany's height now that he was crouching and fiddling with the computer.

"No, but it is what it is," Germany muttered. "After all, this is Russia. Let's just get this day over with."

America massaged his face then yawned again. He swayed and murmured, "Man, I am so with you..."

* * *

Russia trotted down the stairs. He did not go down all the way to the kitchen though, instead stopping on the ground floor. He started down the hall but partway down it, he was surprised to see the front door creaking open. Russia gasped then dashed toward it until the person was seen. At that point, he slowed to a inconspicuous walk and greeted him in a seemingly tranquil way, "Ah, hello there!"

The first thing out of the arrival's mouth as he stepped inside was, "Where is everyone?"

Russia came closer, a smile stretching across his face. "You don't even greet me back?"

The door slammed shut. The guest jumped and appeared to lose some composure as Russia stalked closer with his crooked smile.

"Isn't it odd," Russia continued, "that all day I acted nicely to everyone, but so many did not return that kindness? And then you went and did the same thing. I mean, I tried being what people want me to be. Cooperative, peaceful… but no reward for such effort? Why should I bother then?"

The guest leaned against the door. Russia snatched his hand before he could find the handle and push the door open to flee the building. He dragged him away from escape and took a rough hold of the grey scarf around his neck.

"When was the last time you even saw me?" Russia muttered. "I missed you. It's been so long but you've avoided me."

"Let go of me!"

"I don't have to be nice. I just told you that." Russia's voice was dropping octaves. "My patience for today is running out, you know."

The grip tightened on the hand and scarf as Russia slid closer. He went to perform his greeting despite how the other struggled, quickly giving his cheeks the lucky number of kisses. The distress spiked and Russia heard an inhale of breath, an incoming yell- but Russia finally crammed the grey scarf into his mouth then yanked it tightly around his throat.

"I could have led you to the meeting, but don't think I will now," Russia uttered. "If you won't be respecting me... you have to learn how to."

He writhed, clawing for the scarf to try to loosen it. Russia pulled it tighter still and restrained his hands by slamming his body against the wall. He released quickly to strike him in the temple, then it was over. He dropped like a stone and ceased moving.

Now that all resistance had disappeared, Russia started dragging him down the hall. He took out the key ring and unlocked one of the doors, bringing them both inside. A soft click as the door was closed, then a thump as Russia deposited the limp body in the corner of the room. Afterwards, Russia snuck back to the door and placed his ear against the wood.

He only waited a minute before he heard footsteps. He slipped his hand over the handle and turned it just as those footsteps went by. Russia pressed the door open a crack and he peered out to see who was passing and once he knew, he ducked back inside.

Russia waited another minute to be sure that no one else was coming. He checked the unconscious body in the corner from over his shoulder, then he stepped out into the hall. He locked the door behind him and crept silently toward the bathroom. Russia heard paper towel being yanked from a machine so he slowly pushed open the bathroom door and went inside.

He stood and watched her back in the time she remained oblivious. When she turned though, Ukraine yelped. She stumbled backwards, exclaiming, "R-Russia, what are you doing in here?"

"I planned to meet you." Russia reached his hand out behind him without looking, to slowly turn the lock. "So I waited for you to come."

He approached her. Ukraine looked to her sides as she stepped back, but there was nothing to grab onto to.

"We will talk now," he said.

"N-no, Russia… You can't be talked to..." Ukraine inhaled. "I said it, because you don't listen!"

"No, you don't listen." Russia followed her, always maintaining his proximity. "You will give it to me. Crimea is mine and those other parts too. They voted to join-"

"No, no- you know that you changed the results!"

"The East wants to join me but you won't let them. You reject everything Russian, but insist on keeping _them_?"

"You destroyed the referendums. It's your own fault!" she cried. "You brought in military. You never had to do any of that; you could have left us alone!"

"You are committing crimes that no one is acknowledging," he hissed. "But everyone is acting like I am evil. Sure, America can invade countries and control governments, but such an uproar when I set foot in your country? I could do anything that America does but only _I_ will get in trouble for it! Sanctions after sanctions… it's annoying, you understand?"

"But you can't do what you want-"

"You just hate me!" Russia spat and bristled. Ukraine ran out of space and she hit the wall. He closed in. "My own sister! You won't forget what happened in the Soviet Union, but that was over twenty years ago! Why can't we be close again? Why do you want to run off to the EU now? You have me and that's all you need!"

Ukraine gasped when Russia's hands slammed into the wall on either side of her. He glared into her eyes and she saw no friendly expression on his face. No, that was long gone. Coldness was all she saw; ice in his gaze. The smiles were far away and now she regretted refusing his offer to "talk" earlier, when the others had been around.

"Stop it, please," she pleaded. "Just leave me alone!"

"You were so mean upon arrival," he murmured. "Just like the others. I've been nice like I thought others wanted, but again and again, everyone treated me the same. Whether I am good or bad... Why?"

Russia backed off. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror and Ukraine peeled herself off the wall and observed it with him, shivering.

"Get out of here, Russia…" she whispered.

"Look at this sweater," Russia muttered. "I thought I would look less intimidating. But showing kindness showed weakness. Others took advantage of that, while some still feared me."

His eyes found hers in the mirror.

"Like you," he said. "You are afraid of my power, aren't you?"

She hesitated. Russia smiled at her reflection, but that smile shattered in the mirror when his fist smashed through it. Ukraine jumped into the door of a stall with a cry as glass cascaded and broke further on the floor. Russia whirled around and she gawked at his bloody knuckles and stone expression. He took a step forward but the action caused her diaphragm to pull in. She took in a deep inhale, but Russia was ready. Just like he had been last time.

His hand caught her throat and squeezed slightly as a warning.

"Don't scream," he breathed. "We're just talking, Ukraine. Why would you need to scream?"

Her eyes were like two wide moons. Russia murmured after a pause, "Ah… I thought we would end up here… in this way."

"Russia, let me go. Please, brother…"

"You are the one fighting me for doing what is right! And it didn't help the fact that everyone already hates me." He sighed. "But they will be my friends. I will make sure of it. Unfortunately, they chose the method, not me."

"What do you mean?" she whimpered.

"Well, some more _things_ might have to be broken."

"W-was it you who broke the cord?"

Russia was silent.

Ukraine gasped, "Are you planning on doing bad things to them?"

"Oh no, no. Nothing bad," Russia replied tenderly. "Why would you think I would do that?"

He put his cheek against her forehead. His hand was still wrapped around her throat.

"We'll all be friends," he purred. "Everyone will be happy and there will be no more fighting."

She quaked. Russia stopped nuzzling her to step back and glare at her. Ukraine looked away from him for many seconds until her eyelids started to lower themselves. Russia watched her legs buckling until she dropped down to the floor.

"Oh, Ukraine. The floor might be dirty. You shouldn't sit there."

Her eyelids flickered as she fought to keep them open. She inhaled shakily, "Wh-what did you d-do?"

"Me?" he answered. "Why, nothing at all."

"You… poisoned the food…"

"Of course not. I ate it too," Russia said. "But it makes me sad that you would think that… You don't trust me?"

She rocked back and forth, fighting to keep her eyes open.

"It's just you, Ukraine. Maybe you're sick?" Russia hummed. "What did you do to yourself? Is something wrong at home that I don't know about?"

"No… It was you…" she moaned weakly. "What did you do? And how… could you d-do this?"

"I didn't do anything," he murmured as he crouched down. "Don't accuse me of something like that, dear sister."

Her eyes closed. Russia cupped her cheek and smoothed his thumb over her skin. She did not react. He pet her hair then shook her head, but she still did not wake up. Russia thus scooped her into his arms and headed to the door, balancing and unlocking it, then coming back out into the hall. It was here on the wall next to the door, that he found Belarus slumped over and unconscious.

Ukraine was taken up to the meeting room. Russia placed her in her chair between Lithuania and Hungary, both of which were bent over the table and fallen over their arms. Russia spotted America and Germany collapsed on the carpet by the laptop and then Japan by the water cooler, a cup of water still in his hand as he sat against the wall. Almost everyone else was unresponsive at the table with only two missing from the room.

Russia began to work, dragging everyone back to their seats where they had been before. They flopped over the table without reacting in the slightest. Russia then left to fetch the two who were not present in the room, but he went and got Belarus first.

He removed her from off the cold floor and cradled her, transporting her light weight upstairs. Her head fell against his chest and he paused, reminded suddenly of the time they had spent together just before the meeting had started. Russia's heart pinched, but he saw no other path to take now.

He continued the song from before as he crossed the hall then went up the stairs.

" _Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka, moya…_ "

Little red berry, red berry, red berry of mine...

" _V sadu yagoda, malinka, malinka moya…_ "

In the garden there is a berry, little raspberry, raspberry of mine…

And he continued on, singing the lines softly that he had not gotten the chance to earlier.

" _Akh, pod sosnoyu... pod zelenoyu._ "

Ah, under the pine... the green one.

Russia made it to the top. He soon walked into the meeting room and found Belarus's chair.

" _Spat' polozhite vy menya…_ "

Lay me down to sleep...

And he set her in it. Russia moved back and regarded her soft expression, just as he had imagined it would look an hour ago.

Russia headed downstairs and found Cuba in the hall below, fallen sometime on his return trip from the men's bathroom. Russia hauled him upstairs but tripped once, dropping him down the stairs. He hurried to lug him up, frowning and grimacing in knowledge that his mistake was going to cause him to bruise. Then finally, he got him positioned in his chair between the silent and slumped forms of Poland and China.

Once everyone was seated, he left the room and went back down the stairs. He inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly, feeling a shiver creeping up his spine. It was quiet again, just as it had been before the guests had arrived. Almost disturbing, except the wind was picking up and he could hear it. That was comforting; it sounded almost like a voice to him. He did not feel so alone anymore.

Russia pulled out his phone and checked the time. He glanced at it first, then the background that was a field of sun-kissed sunflowers. He respired deeply again, then started to tremble. He pressed his thumb on an app and opened his photo gallery. Russia padded down to the ground floor again slowly, regarding the image that had opened, the one of him smiling with Belarus and the bread.

More lyrics escaped him, more melancholically sung than before.

" _Ay-lyuli, lyuli... ay-lyuli, lyuli..._ "

Oh, swing, sway... swing, sway...

The wind shrieked as though in pain. Russia twitched again.

" _Spat' polozhite vy menya..._ "

Lay me down to sleep...


	3. Снегопад- Snowfall

It felt like he was the only living one here, seated at a table of corpses.

Russia withdrew a blank sheet from the short pile of paper next to him. He placed it down with care and began another sketch, one of the same images that he had already drawn a few times. Russia shakily drew a curve and got a wobbly line that he did not put any effort in to erase and fix. No, this sunflower was going to be misshapen as though staticy, an image faltering on a screen before everything buzzed out to gray.

The room was not cold at all, but he had started to quiver and now he could not stop. The heating was on and he did not doubt this, but he felt so frigid in the company of the crying wind. His hand that he had since bandaged and gloved trembled with the pencil tightly grasped in it, although it had not many minutes ago. Each picture was thus a progression, from a neat flower that eventually decayed into broken and jagged lines, pressed hard and soft in random places.

This flower looked unworldly, not dead but better described as undead or alien. It seemed to have a power to it that one dreaded to know the extent of; an evil ability.

It did not belong.

The pencil slipped out of Russia's grasp and fell onto the drawing. The graphite tip landed in such a way that darkness was smeared over the face of the crooked sunflower, and some chips broke off and stuck to those smears. Russia was startled but then he leaned back to observe the drawing anew. He pulled the paper gingerly from the top until it dangled in the air by his fingertips. The pencil rolled off the table while his eyes widened.

He set the picture face down and hid it at the bottom of the pile.

"Everything's okay," he whispered to himself. "It'll all be worth it in the end..."

His own words did not stop his quaking. Russia lifted his eyes and glanced over the unconscious bodies once more. His hands slid over his face to cover his eyes, and there he stayed to block out reality for a few minutes. Russia then looked again and reconfirmed that this was not a fantasy; he had really done this.

Russia clutched at himself and spun the chair around to face away from the table. With his side to the silent population of the room, he stared out the window at the impenetrable wall of white. He had recently drawn back the curtains and now the exterior was visible for all, although they were completely ignorant of the truth that was the reigning blizzard.

"There was no storm in the forecast," Russia murmured. "Isn't that strange?"

Russia spun back around and looked across the table to America.

He addressed him, "Isn't that strange, America? If you had known this would happen, would you have come?"

Russia tapped his feet on the carpet so that his chair spun around in a few circles. The air ruffled his hair and cooled his skin but he stopped abruptly when he felt dizzy. His front was to America again as he continued with a bent laugh, "No, not at all. No one would have. After all, why would they? Who would gone through all that effort and have the risk of being stuck here with me?"

Russia brought attention back to his papers. Some were still blank, waiting to be drawn on. He gazed upon the sketches again, then decided he was too nervous to continue what he was doing before. His hands still quivered with his body thus he was worried about how the next image would appear. Yet he needed to be occupied by something, so he dragged the last three sheets towards himself and began to fold them individually.

Nothing complicated. They became neat, little paper airplanes that he lined up in an obedient row. The smooth wood of the table was like the pavement of an airfield that they were all idling on. Russia looked back to America and reconsidered his immobility and unawareness, realizing that anything could be done to him and he did not have to know.

He could not resist and so all three of the paper airplanes were launched. Two of three bounced harmlessly off America's face with the other one missing and sailing past him. Russia smiled when America's limp face resting on his outstretched arm remained unchanged.

"Hmm, what are you going to do now?" Russia chuckled as his shivering faded away. "You are completely powerless…"

He rose and strode around the table, passing many until he came up beside America. Russia put his index and middle finger together, forming his hand into the shape of a gun. He pressed into the back of his head then jerked his hand once, making an exaggerated shooting noise.

Russia sang merrily, "Ah, it looks like you're dead now!"

He went away to come up behind Germany and turn the finger gun onto him. Russia made the sound and twitched his hand again, imagining that he had shot a bullet into his head and that was why Germany was collapsed over his arms. Russia did the same to a few others, not thinking much about who he was shooting or why. Canada, Poland, France, Italy, Japan, and Ukraine were targeted, then he stopped out of boredom.

"I really could have done that," Russia sighed. "But I didn't… Wasn't that nice?"

Russia observed his audience but received no reaction. He exhaled heavily and dragged himself back to his seat. He checked the window, then the wood shining under the light of the ceiling. His fingers tapped the tabletop, producing quick _clack-clacks_ before clasping together smoothly as though to take on a professional disposition.

"What if I had really poisoned you all?" he mused.

No answer.

"It would have been easy!" he chirped. "I could have put anything in the water, anything at all!"

Absolute silence remained. Russia's false enthusiasm faded with his transient smile. That feeling from before struck him once more, where he felt that he was the only one alive and that everyone else was dead. A deep inhale filled his lungs and his widening eyes scanned the individuals. He verified that they were still breathing, chests expanding and collapsing slowly for each one of them. Russia swallowed and shook, then tried to focus on the cries of the wind in order to distract himself from the quietude consuming the inside.

"What if I had wanted to kill you?" Russia whispered with difficulty, his throat constricted. "I bet you would have thought I would do something like that. Like it is something I would want to do…"

Russia jolted from a shiver that had run down his spine. Two gloved hands slammed down on the wood as he shot up and inhaled sharply, but he went nowhere. He froze where he was and trembled, a shine developing over his amethyst eyes as he gazed downwards.

"But I… I don't want that… not really. I want to be at the top, in control, b-but… I would really like to have you as friends… alive, with me and warm. We could be so happy…"

He stood up fully and allowed his hands to drop to his sides. Russia wandered around the table again to America, this time peeling him off the tabletop and steadying him so that he was upright. America's head flopped to the side and Russia frowned.

"Right, America?" he murmured. "It was fun sometimes arguing with you but I am tired of fighting. Wouldn't it be great, if you dropped your title as the 'World's Most Powerful Nation'? Then when you stop being so… _you_ , we can be friends. Trading, fighting together… Where I am the hero and I keep an eye on you instead."

Russia dragged America's glasses off his nose then put them onto himself. He laughed curtly then put them onto the table, taking the time to examine America's face without them on it.

"Then, if you were nice to me… I would save you," Russia dropped into a whisper as he leaned over him. "Would you allow me though, to take care of you? Could you ever accept being weaker than me?"

He removed his gloves and placed them onto the table before he touched America's nose. Russia traced the ridge and thought about how small it was compared to his, then he put his hands on either side of America's warm face. He started to tap his head so that it flopped limply side-to-side between them.

"You seem so innocent when you aren't talking," Russia mumbled. "It makes it hard to hate you, really… If only you were quieter all the time!"

He took hold of America's chin and jaw, pressing his thumb into his lip as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. Russia released him and watched his body tilt to the side, then he pushed the chair. America flopped over the side and his arms dangled as the chair rotated twice before slowing to a stop.

Russia squatted to flick America's hands and play with his fingers, lifting each one and feeling its weight. He was not thinking too much about why he was doing it, but he was undoubtedly fascinated by him suddenly. America had fingers too, something he knew of course but had never really cared about. His nose, mouth, and hands were there like his were, and could feel things. He was alive like him and not just a thing that was manufactured to rival him. Strange it was, that it was hard to think past that sometimes.

"If you were awake, you would never let me do this," Russia murmured. But he was happy that he could. He turned America's left arm palm up then down, imagining the bones in his forearms crossing and uncrossing. Russia smiled a genuine, amused smile, and he left America alone now to walk away while trembling with fear and glee.

He went to Canada next and borrowed his glasses too. Russia grew increasingly more entertained and he hopped around from person to person with a lighter heart. He poked the mole on Austria's face, brushed Hungary's hair with his fingers, ran his hand over Germany's stiff, gelled hair, and placed his thumbs on Britain's eyebrows. Many silly things he had thought about doing but knew he would not have been allowed to do, he did. He ruffled Japan's hair, checked China's teeth, and went through Poland's pink bag. Russia could not resist playing with another pair of glasses, so with Estonia's he put them onto Belarus then Latvia after he had put them on himself.

He laughed and laughed. He borrowed Ukraine's headband. He felt France's sandpaper-like facial hair then he picked up Italy. Russia could imagine their upset voices and defensive actions if they could have seen him now. Russia looked to Germany as he carried Italy and he imagined how he would demand that he put him down. Italy would probably be shivering like he had been after being kissed, but he was not now and Russia loved it.

All this gave him a taste of what he wanted. If no one feared or hated him, then they would have allowed him to do all these things. Italy was like a friend right now, not quaking in his arms. Russia was nearly happy like this. He sat down and held Italy for a while, cradling and nuzzling him, his heart wishing though that Italy would laugh or smile in response, enjoying his affection.

"If you are good, then I will not do anything to you." Russia stroked Italy's hair. "It is simple."

He put him back into the chair and left him alone. Russia went along and patted the bun that Lithuania had put his hair into before moving around to his side then slipping his arms around him. Russia set his chin onto his shoulder and touched his face against his.

"I like when you put your hair up," he whispered. "You look so clever and professional."

Russia could hear him breathing softly through his nose. He listened for a time before he walked around the table and wondered what he could do next. He ended up reaching the decision that he would go downstairs and check again on the visitor that he had locked away.

Russia padded out of the room and once the seventeen unconscious people were out of sight, he felt more at ease. There was still a lack of activity that drove him to want to create noise, so he started humming his national anthem again. The mood seemed to require more however, so while he strolled languidly down the stairs, he let the words flow out from his mouth.

" _Rossiya, svyashchennaya nasha derzhava..._ "

He sang as the world around him screamed.

" _Rossiya, lyubimaya nasha strana!_ "

* * *

A groan rumbled in his throat. Prussia shifted but cringed and halted as pain pulsed in his head. His eyes tightened and he tried to take in a breath only to find his mouth crammed full with something soft. Prussia reached up to his face and pulled out the part of his scarf that had been wedged behind his teeth. A deep inhale was gratefully taken in, then Prussia relaxed and focused on his breathing for a few minutes.

He carefully attempted to raise himself into a sitting position. Prussia gasped in agony, but succeeded. Bright eyes flashed open and he took notice of blue carpet, a long table, and an off-white wall. Instantly, he was struck with the thought, _Where the hell am I?_

Prussia pushed himself to his feet and swayed, clutching at a tender spot on his temple.

"Really, what happened?" he exhaled.

He crossed his arms and noticed that he was in a T-shirt. Prussia observed his pale goosebumps then rubbed furiously at them. He stepped toward the door to the room and pushed down on the handle. It did not budge.

"What?" he hissed.

He pushed his weight down onto it, tugged, and jiggled it.

 _It's locked from the outside? What the actual hell?_

Prussia kicked the door. He slammed against it, then continued kicking it again and again. There was a crack of splintering wood, then the door swung open. Prussia stepped out into the hallway and looked both ways. He saw no one. Prussia noticed the front door however and, finding himself in an unfamiliar place, he decided to head for the exit.

He froze just in front of it however. Prussia stared, mouth agape at the collection of coats hanging to the side on hangers. He recognized a few of them, namely Germany's and his own.

"Germany's here?" he breathed.

Then a singing echoed down the hall arose. Prussia turned his head to observe feet coming down the last of the stairs, attached to the source of the eerie voice. He gasped as realization struck him and all knowledge of what had happened returned to him in an instant. The throbbing of his bruise heightened as the memories flashed in his mind's eye.

 _Russia! Shit! Shit! Shit!_

Prussia snatched his coat and felt the lump of his rental car keys in the pocket. Without putting the coat on, he attacked the door as the singing continued.

" _Moguchaya volya, velikaya slava_ -"

Then the singing cut off abruptly. Prussia knew he had been seen but he had already shot out the door and was tearing across the parking lot on a mad dash for his car.

"Crazy, crazy communist!" he cried to himself. "When Germany hears about what happened to me-"

Prussia yelped and skidded to a halt. His jaw dropped as he was petrified by what he saw to his side on the other half of the building.

"Wh-what… That's n-not possi-"

There was a wall of white before him. Prussia clutched his arms and shivered in the regular chill although not a single snowflake touched his flesh. Never before in his life, had he seen this before. Prussia heard the wind shrieking but nothing was blowing his way at all. He tilted his head up and looked to the top of the building, but the edges could not be made out in the thickness of the blizzard there.

"Dreaming… I am…"

Arms wrapped around him and yanked him back. Prussia cried out and struggled as the situation rushed back to him. One fear was replaced with another, and this one was more powerful.

"No! No! Let go, don't touch me!" he shrieked.

Russia murmured, "Oh, Prussia, you're so scared. Very cold too… Let's go back inside."

"What is that?" Prussia cried. "What did you do?"

"Shhh… Come with me, before the storm hits you. It's okay."

Russia locked Prussia in between his arms. Prussia screamed and kicked, but Russia was too strong to resist. He was forced back into the building and Russia reached out and closed the door behind them. Yet when one arm was extended and occupied, Prussia wiggled free of Russia's hold.

He sprinted down the hall despite his pounding head, and the cry ripped from his throat, " _Germany! Help! Crazyhead Russia's trying to kill me_!"

He heard pounding footsteps rapidly approaching. Prussia dove into the stairwell and went down, leaping over multiple steps at a time. His feet slammed down on the final floor and he twisted around just as Russia leapt for him. Prussia hurled the coat at him and the keys clattered as they struck bone on Russia's face. The coat wrapped around his head, blinding him momentarily. Russia clawed at it and stumbled after him while Prussia tore off and yelled, " _Germany! Where are you_?"

A hand clutched his left side then threw him sideways into the wall. He gasped on impact from the fear instead of the pain. Prussia was overwhelmed by a black sweater as he was pressured into a sitting position. He felt the arms crawling around him again and his heart rate soared when Russia whispered to him, " _He can't hear you_."

Prussia squirmed. Russia tightened his hold and muttered, "No one in the world can hear you but me."

That voice lacked most of its usual, fake cheer which would have been more reassuring than the dark tone he heard now. Prussia whined in terror, understanding how alone he was with Russia. No witnesses, no saviors.

"P-please don't!" Prussia gasped. "I'm sorry for what I said… I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Are you?" Russia uttered. " _Help, Germany? Russia's trying to kill me?_ You are sorry for that? For throwing the coat at me?"

Prussia espied a red mark on Russia's cheekbone where the zipper of the coat likely struck him and a spot where the keys hit. He shook. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "D-don't… hurt me…"

He remembered suddenly why he had avoided Russia as much as he could for years. This was how his life had been like when controlled by the Soviet Union. It was back again but worse now. No one at all knew he was even here. Russia could hide all evidence now if he wanted to do away with him.

"Why not, Prussia?" Russia's voice was clear and cold like a gelid breeze. "All you've done was be rude to me."

Russia's hand tugged on his scarf. Prussia closed his eyes as his airway was constricted again. He whined, "I'll stop, I'll stop… Please don't do anything…"

Russia stopped pulling. His grip released enough that Prussia could reach up and loosen the scarf from his neck.

"I never want to hurt you," Russia told him in a seemingly gentle voice. "But sometimes you have to be punished when you do bad things..."

"You d-don't own me anymore," Prussia breathed. "You c-can't hurt me…"

"No one will know. You will not tell them." Russia's voice dropped. "Understand? You will not tell them what I did or else I will find you."

Russia then stroked Prussia's hair. Prussia flinched and whispered, "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Friendship," Russia murmured, now in a lighter tone than before. "It is warmer inside, when I am treating you kindly instead of with pain."

Prussia blinked rapidly as Russia put his hand on his cheek. He looked up to a smile but only grew more afraid. Prussia did not feel safe with him. His temple still ached and sported the bruise from when he had been hit.

Russia rubbed his back and put his face in his hair.

"You see? I am kind if you are," Russia whispered. "There's no need to be scared."

Prussia shivered. He looked to his sides but they were alone on the floor in this hall. There was no escape from his pinned position wrapped up in Russia's dangerous embrace.

"You are still shaking, Prussia. Are you cold?"

He inhaled and lied, "Y-yes…"

Angering him would have been worse than having his arms rubbed and head made to rest against Russia's chest. Prussia was sure that he was making the right choice by not struggling and letting this happen, for he no longer felt in jeopardy. If he was careful, he thought, he could escape being harmed.

"Better now?"

Prussia was succeeding in stilling his body as Russia's anger subsided. Now his lie had seemed plausible. Prussia thus responded sensibly, "Yes, thank you…"

"It's no problem," Russia smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. "Would you like anything else?"

Prussia was still careful and soft-spoken when he replied, "What do you mean?"

"If you are hungry, I made some things. Cookies, pirozhkis…"

Prussia was afraid to refuse. Again, he thanked him quietly as he thought about his helplessness. When Russia withdrew and stood, Prussia rose as well. He did not dare to run away; he followed Russia to the kitchen. The way there though, he only pictured Russia catching him if he whirled around and ran right now, beating him, possibly strangling him, then locking him away again.

Prussia looked around as they entered a cafeteria area, checking out the tables and few vending machines. They then went to the back where Prussia could detect old scents of baked things. Soon he saw the aforementioned cookies on a tray upon the counter. He could not deny how hungry he actually was, but he was worried because Russia had made them.

"Take what you like," Russia murmured. "If you want a pirozhki, I'll warm one up for you."

Prussia was concerned since Russia was standing in front of a rack of knives. He nodded and said, "Er, I would love one…"

He stood passively and watched Russia pop one on a plate into the microwave. When he did not take a cookie however, Russia turned, indicated them, and asked, "You don't want one of these?"

"Ah, yes!"

Prussia hurried to reach out and take one. He made the mistake however, of hesitating before taking a bite. Prussia stared at what he held for a little too long, prompting Russia to ask, "What is wrong? You don't trust it?"

"N-no, that's not-"

Russia's voice dropped again, "You think I poisoned the food?"

"No…"

Prussia looked to the cookie and thought, _He's never poisoned me before…_ He took a large bite, but felt that something was still wrong. _Why is Russia down here instead of attending the meeting? Did something... happen to the others? I wouldn't put it above him to do something insane like that._

Russia seemed satisfied when he starting eating. He turned when the microwave went off and he took out the plate to set it on the counter. Afterwards, Russia reached into the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and left it beside the plate. Prussia finished off his cookie but watched with interest as Russia took one for himself and also bit into it.

Russia swallowed and asked, "Do you want to sit down?"

Prussia was confused, wondering why Russia was acting like he had all the time in the world. Seeing him eat as well made him feel safer though, so he merely agreed and carried his pirozhki and water out. They sat at the table together in the silence, unable to hear the wind from down here. Russia looked across the table at him and Prussia hid his discomfort by taking large gulps from the bottle and glancing to the side.

"Why did you come here, Prussia?" Russia asked. "Did Germany give you permission to attend a world meeting?"

"No, but I thought that if it was small enough, he wouldn't get mad…"

Russia smiled at him. Prussia froze.

"Why did you think hardly anyone would show up?" Russia asked.

"Th-the weather, of course," Prussia stammered. "That's the only reason!"

"Mmm, yes, the weather..." Russia leaned forward slightly. "It can be crazy here sometimes. Like today, right?"

Prussia nodded and bit the pirozhki. He burned his tongue but he tried not to show his pain. He only hurried to drink the cold water to soothe it.

"So you wanted to come to a meeting." Russia sat back. "That's nice. Don't you have pets though? Who is watching them?"

Prussia did not know why he was asking, if Russia really cared, but he answered, "I got a dog-sitter before I… followed behind..."

Russia regarded Prussia as he took another quick bite and drink.

"I think I only met them once," Russia said. "What are their names?"

Prussia was growing increasingly more wary. These questions were too innocent and mundane. He had the tingling feeling that he was being distracted by them.

"Um, Aster…" he replied, "Blackie… and Berlitz…"

He ate the last bit of the pirozhki and drank again because of his nervousness, only to find himself quickly finishing off the bottle. Prussia glanced back to Russia, who was smiling at him with his chin on his hands. He noticed one of those hands were bandaged, so Prussia briefly wondered how that had happened until Russia spoke again.

"Were you thirsty, Prussia?" Russia inquired. "You drank it all."

"I-I didn't want to waste it..."

"That's good. Come, let's put everything away now!"

When Russia walked, it was still in an unhurried manner. Prussia took back the bottle and plate, recycling, then washing the plate himself in the sink. As he scrubbed with the dish brush he had found though, Russia crept up and touched his back.

"We are on a break right now," he said. "I can take you upstairs to see them soon."

Prussia thanked him. Not wanting to ruin this chance, he knew he had to walk on eggshells. He would be extra careful now not to peeve Russia.

Russia rubbed his back and murmured, "Not yet though. We are having technical difficulties so we're waiting until someone comes and gets me. I came down to bake more during that time, and now you can help me, right?"

Dread twisted his insides, but he agreed.

"Oh, that makes me happy! This is something friends do, Prussia. Let's be good friends now, _da_?"

Prussia smiled weakly. He grew confused when Russia led him out of the room but he did not question it. He soon found that Russia had taken him to a bathroom however, telling him, "You've been here a while so maybe do this before we start."

He was admittedly embarrassed, but he went in and was thankful when he was not followed. Prussia enjoyed his time separated from Russia, mostly spending it standing around and checking his bruise in the mirror. After seeing it for the first time though, he wondered what he would say to Germany about it. Prussia debated telling the truth to him later when Russia was not around, but he knew Germany would flip out on Russia. Then, Russia would be furious next time he saw him.

Prussia twitched as he imagined what would happen then. He decided though, that he would not let that happen. Russia would not attack if Germany was there so Prussia just had to make sure he never left his side.

 _I have to tell him. I refuse to keep living in fear of Russia!_

Prussia stretched then headed towards the door. He did not want to get in trouble for spending too much time in here so he came out and met with Russia. Russia ran his hands down his arms, hugged him, then they returned to the kitchen. Here Prussia mindlessly obeyed instructions, cutting and measuring the things Russia chirped out for him to.

Prussia figured out they were making another sort of pirozhki but he did not care to ask. Halfway through preparations, he was starting to rapidly lose energy. Prussia's eyes went in and out of focus as he sliced mushrooms. He heard Russia wash his hands, then moments later one was caressing his side and the other was pulling the knife out of his grasp.

"You better stop if you are too tired," Russia whispered. "I don't want you to cut yourself."

Prussia's legs trembled. He leaned back and Russia caught him, holding him carefully. Thoughts slipped away as his body felt an overwhelming weight. His eyes slid closed as Russia bent down then scooped him up into his arms. Even if he had wanted to protest to this, he could not. Prussia's head rolled and fell against him as he went completely limp.

"It is better this way," Russia sighed. "I didn't have to hit you again, because you were being nice this time. This way is painless."

Russia went up to the floor above the one on ground level and left him on the stairs. He then went back down and finished the preparations without him. Once everything was set into the oven and he was singing _Kalinka_ again, he went back upstairs to check on those in the meeting room.

"Germany," Russia purred as he paced around the table. "Prussia came today. I think we will be friends. What do you think about th-"

Russia jumped and yelped when the window burst and glass blew across the room. Powerful wind surged inward, spraying icy snow over everything and everyone. The curtains were left fluttering madly as though in a panic of what had just happened. Russia's eyes darted as he stood petrified and without purpose, a trickle of blood spilling down his cheek like a tear.

When he remembered how to move, he pulled the small glass shard from his face. Scarlet pumped out from beside his eye and he was distracted by its heat until he heard a groan from above. He glanced up and his pupils narrowed at the ceiling beginning to dip inwards.

Russia jumped into action and snatched the closest chair, Canada's, and wheeled it out of the room. He looked up when in the hall and he noticed that this ceiling was creaking and dipping down as well. Russia gritted his teeth, pulled Canada out from the chair, and ran.

He went partly down the stairs, set him by Prussia, then raced back up. He grabbed Cuba next and stumbled to where Canada and Prussia were. He left them in the safer spot that was not secure either, but the best he could offer in the time he had. He panted as he snatched America and ran, his mind racing.

 _They're asleep still! They needed to be awake… We weren't ready, they needed to be-_

Russia gasped when he heard crunching above when back in the meeting room. He glanced up and saw a spiderweb of long cracks spreading across the ceiling. Dust sprinkled down and spun away with the snow rushing in. Russia lifted China up and pelted away as the ceiling splintered further and pieces broke off in chunks.

 _There's no time to carry them all out!_

Russia cried out when he crashed into Canada's chair in the hall. China dropped from his arms when he reached out instinctively to protect his face. Russia heard the groaning above grow louder and he spun around onto his back just in time to behold the ceiling rushing down upon him.

His eyes stretched open wide. Another tear of blood sped down his face.

" _Nyet-_ "

The world cracked as roof, thick sheets of ice, and snow collapsed upon them, vociferously and drowning out that one single scream. Crushing weight slammed down and everything went black, but even then the storm did not cease. Russia struggled and clawed through the debris and ice until his head popped out into the open sky to be besieged by the shrieking blizzard.

He shielded his eyes against the snow and searched desperately for the others. He screamed out their names but his voice was ripped away by the wind. So he pounced into the wreckage beside him and dug frantically, soon finding and removing a battered and bloody form.

"No, no..."

Russia whimpered as he dragged China towards where he assumed the buried stairwell would be. At one spot they sank through the snow and fell onto the flight of stairs, tumbling over the bodies already safe in the warmth.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this…" Russia whined as he set China down. "I'm so sorry…"

Snow fell through the hole and started to sprinkle the stairs. Russia clawed his way back up and told himself, "It must continue though. It still can…"

Russia dug again, pausing only to wipe the bloodied snow off his cut-up face. Blood flowed into his eyes from a diagonal cut across his forehead immediately after. He shook his head to shake it off as he continued pulling away ice and roof pieces.

 _Why did this happen? I had expected the friendship bread to fail but… no one was supposed to get hurt!_

Russia gasped when he found a cluster of unconscious individuals. He dragged them two at a time to the stairwell, leaving red trails behind. Each stop in the stairwell was like a little break, but Russia knew he had to move fast. Snow was pouring in and it was getting harder and harder to get back up to the surface again to find the rest.

Germany was in horrible shape when he had found him. His chest and face were coated in thick blood and his arm was twisted under a block of ice. Russia grimaced and pulled his heavy mass through the storm, tripping over rubble.

"I promise it wasn't supposed to be this way!" Russia cried. "You didn't choose this method and neither did I! It was an accident… but I'll fix it, I promise!"

He could not even hear himself. He had only felt his words vibrating his body. Russia dumped Germany's body down the hole then raced on to find the last few. He dug by where he had found Germany and found Britain tangled with a chair. He hurriedly tossed him down the hole too, battling against time to locate the others before the stairwell became closed up by snow.

Russia brought out France and Austria. They were cold to the touch and so limp, broken and bloody like the others. He feared for them but had no time to check over them. He sought out Hungary and Italy, rescued them from the cold, then mentally counted in his head.

 _Fourteen… Three left._

He had not found his sisters yet. Tears froze to his face and he ripped apart the ground for them, heart pounding. His hands and fingernails were pale and the bandage had fallen off, allowing the scabs on his knuckles to open and bleed freely. Russia clawed through blood and rubble until he located Japan. He ripped him from the ground and forced him through the snow into the stairwell.

 _Everything will be alright in the end._

He thought this over and over as he searched. Russia shouted when he found hair, then he retrieved Ukraine. He saved her then frantically dug for Belarus, who should have been close by. Russia breathed heavily and quaked, his clothes and hair caked with snow. Finally he found a hand and he pulled, yanking Belarus out from under sheets of ice.

She emerged rather unharmed from the looks of it, only ruffled and motionless. With her, he plunged into the stairwell and rolled over the bodies that he would soon have to relocate. Snow quickly piled up on the upper stairs and blocked out the storm from view. Russia collapsed, sitting on a stair for a moment to recover and recount the people inside. When he counted nineteen including himself, he brushed the snow off himself and caught his breath.

After a minute, Russia hugged Belarus tightly while trying not to get his blood on her. "It wasn't supposed to be this way," he breathed and stroked her wet hair. "I hope you'll believe me… What just happened was not… the plan…"

But as it had been before, there was no going back now.

The storm would continue.

* * *

 **The collapse on the nations was like World War Two. It left them in bad shape and in need of help.**

 **Also to be on the same page, East Germany (Prussia) was a satellite of the Soviet Union. Not actually a member of the Soviet Union, but controlled and kept by military force. This is his reason for being wary and fearful of Russia.**


	4. Улыбки- Smiles

**The Yalta Conference:**

Conference in 1945 with Stalin, Churchill, and Roosevelt. The Soviet Union, UK, and US met near the end of WWII to discuss what will happen next. They were sure the Allies would win so they talked about what would be done with Germany, Japan, and the war-torn countries once the war was over.

 ***** The table upstairs was circular as a reference to the table from the Yalta conference.

* * *

America clawed his way through thick darkness in the struggle to open his eyes. When a crack of light was seen, he fought to widen it. His eyes were able to creak open only with utmost effort to behold the sight of a white wall across from him. His tilted his head in confusion, wondering how he ended up sitting on the carpet of this hall with his legs stuck out and tingling with numbness.

He shifted in discomfort, letting the blood properly flow back into his legs. America then touched his fingers to his face only to find that his glasses were missing. He was more puzzled than troubled however, especially when movement cut into his vision and he saw Russia kneeling down in front of him.

"Are you okay, America?" Russia asked in what seemed like a concerned voice.

"Uh… yeah," he answered. "Why?"

America pulled himself into a squat then started to rise. Russia quickly cautioned him, "Be careful... I don't know if you are hurt too."

He paused but was sure that he could not feel any pain. America got up to his feet and glanced around, only to be startled by the line of people sitting or lying against the wall. He gawked at the injuries scored on nearly everyone and the unconscious states they were in. He jolted and gasped, "Whoa, dude! What happened?"

"We took the break, if you remember." Russia came up to his side. "And I was leaving the room when the ceiling just fell. There was too much ice on it and everyone was crushed. I wasn't hurt too badly though, so I found everyone and brought them here."

America observed with interest the napkins and paper towels stuck to the bloody wounds of the others. He nodded slowly, then inquired, "But where is here?"

He looked back to Russia and saw him frown.

"We are on the lowest floor," Russia murmured. "The weight of the collapsed roof took out the next floor, then part of the ground one."

"Part?"

Russia hesitated. "It broke on an angle, piling up in front of the door. We have a little triangle of safety, but I don't know if the ground floor will collapse completely or not. A blizzard has started…"

"What? So we're stuck here?"

"Mm-hmm."

There was movement beside them on the floor. Britain stirred and groaned, "Did you just say that we're stuck here?"

Russia replied, "The building collapsed because of ice."

"Oh bother. Did you call for help?"

"I did," Russia said. "Fortunately, I still had my phone on me. There was also signal. But a blizzard came while you were unconscious so roads will only get worse. Other people are having problems too, so no one will come for few days."

"Well, that's not long," Britain sighed. "I'm sure we can survive until then easily. We have enough food I assume, and the power is still functioning somehow."

"There is a lot of food," Russia nodded. "I just baked more pirozhkis too."

America said, "You know, in case the power goes out, we should probably make everything first. Otherwise, we'll be stuck eating flour."

Britain stood up slowly, wincing. He managed to nod though and agree, "Good idea."

"When more wake up," Russia went on, "I'll have them help me in the kitchen. We can get everything done fast."

"Right then, but what about the injured?" Britain asked. "My back and leg aren't faring well, but just look at Germany. What are we going to do about him?"

The three looked to him. Their faces scrunched up upon examining the sheer amount of blood over his body that the napkins did little to fix.

"He was hit hard," America breathed. "But he'll be fine, if we take care of him."

"We'll take charge of everything," Britain murmured. "He can relax and heal."

Russia padded around to Britain's far side and turned his head to look over them both. "Another thing, I should be mentioning," Russia told them. "I found Prussia. I don't know why he is here, but I think he wanted to come to the meeting? Anyway, he has a bruise but he is unconscious, so it might actually be bad."

"Yeah, we'll make sure he recovers too," America replied. "Whoever needs it."

America's eyes then flicked over the crumpled people, searching for Canada. Just as his gaze fell upon him, Canada started to awaken beside France, who was as well coming around. Both lifted their weary heads to glance back at the trio staring at them. Over France's face were raw abrasions while Canada's remained unharmed.

America and Canada gazed over each other for a few moments, but France scanned his area and immediately noticed Germany.

"What happened?" France gasped.

"The building fell," America explained. "Ice and such."

Canada checked over himself for injuries. When he found none, he announced, "I think I'm alright..."

"Some people were lucky," Russia told him. "I wasn't in the room, but I have injuries because of when I was pulling you out."

"A lot must have fallen on Germany," France murmured without taking his eyes off him.

"It's true," Russia explained. "America, Canada, and Cuba were fine. Britain was caught up in chair, and Germany was under a lot of roof pieces and ice."

America rubbed his head. He sighed, "Ah… I don't remember anything. The last thing I remember doing was trying to fix that cord thing with Germany. I'm still out of it though… just pooped."

"You were in the cold," Russia said. "That's why. And maybe you were hit in the head, but that's okay. You'll be fine."

"Yeah... I shouldn't complain when everyone else has it worse." America looked to the slumped mess that was Japan against the wall. "What can we do now though?"

"Food we have," Britain started. "And water should be fine as long as the taps don't freeze."

"We can run water constantly," Russia suggested. "Let it trickle down- it'll keep the pipes warm."

"Yeah, that'll do," America agreed. "What else?"

"See what everyone has on them," Britain said. "If we can, we can collect more phones just in case. Any chargers especially, if anyone has them."

Canada got up and followed America. Britain limped over but America stopped him, putting a gentle hand out and saying, "Don't worry, I can do those things. You're hurt too, so you should chill."

Britain went to the wall and slid down to occupy in the empty spot beside France. Russia, America, and Canada strolled down the hall, checking on wounds, examining pockets, and explaining quickly the situation to all those who woke up. Most were starting to crawl into consciousness but a few remained still and silent. Germany and Japan stayed unresponsive along with Prussia, isolated in their own spots on the floor.

Russia crept over once he had noticed Hungary turning Austria's head. Austria had been one of the last to waken and when Russia saw his eyes flickering open, he rushed over. He wanted to be there when he woke, the first thing he would see. Austria thus came into a half-consciousness state to discover a fresh napkin being wiped over his cheek and Russia's face by his.

The moan escaped him, "What…?"

"It's alright," Russia murmured. "You are hurt, but I will take care of you."

Austria tossed his head to the side to check over Hungary's wounds. What he saw made him grimace although she was composing herself well. He then looked past Russia to America, who was approaching up behind him. Of him, Austria inquired, "Is everyone okay?"

"They are," Russia responded.

"What happened?"

"I saved you," Russia smiled tenderly at him. "The building collapsed and I pulled everyone out."

Austria looked to America. There was disbelief carved into Austria's face, but America shrugged and said, "He did. He was the only one not knocked-out by the collapse."

Hungary and Austria checked the scratches of Russia's face, finding the proof they wanted there.

"You really did that?" Hungary breathed.

"Of course." Russia's smile held. "I was scared for everyone. I dug and dug for you, scared that someone would be missed…"

He could feel more eyes rising to watch him. Russia pretended he could not see the heads turning; he kept looking down at Hungary and Austria. He allowed his voice however to rise steadily in volume, so that everyone was sure to hear what he would say.

"My hands were bleeding, but I did not feel it. There was snow everywhere and it was hard to see, but I felt for your bodies in the wreck… I took everyone inside into the warmth and then I carried you all one-by-one down to here."

Russia narrowed his shoulders to make himself look smaller and he clasped a hand around his arm. Most could now see the cuts on his right hand's knuckles, which was the very reason he had done it. Only one person here besides him knew the true cause of the cuts, but the rest could be yanked into sympathy by the sight of them.

"Then the second top floor started breaking so I ran," Russia continued when shocked silence remained. "I got everyone to safety before it fell. I went upstairs to the ground level and saw half of it become buried, blocking the front door. I wondered if the whole thing would fall and I was scared the final floor would too, crushing us completely. But it didn't. So I went and found all these napkins to stop your bleeding and here we are now..."

Russia gazed over the injured. He made eye contact with Poland and smiled again. Poland hugged his knees with a frown, looking rather uncomfortable. In truth, he could not decide what to think and, like him, many found it hard to believe Russia although it was impossible to deny his words. Again, most looked to America for confirmation and received it because of his silence.

"Why?" Latvia asked with a twitch. "You could have left us and no one would have blamed you."

"Are you sure about that?" Russia tilted his head and looked down at Latvia's weakened form curled up against the wall. "If someone was missing, I am sure that I would have been getting the blame. But... I saved you for a different reason. I did it because I wanted to. I care about everyone here, because even if we haven't been getting along lately, I really can't stop caring."

The more heartfelt words he let loose, the more confused and nervous they seemed. He did not know why and he did not like it, but he kept smiling. Hoping they would relax and smile back, being at least thankful for what he had done.

America cleared his throat. He did not make eye contact with Russia as he said, "We... er, have to cook now. Remember? You said you would in case the power went out."

The smile faded as Russia felt something heavy sinking within him and settling into his gut. His shoulders dropped. Russia realized too well that he was not going to get what he wanted so easily.

Russia sighed, "Ah, yes. I will be doing that..."

He looked to where he had lined up the Baltics against the wall. They gazed back at him cautiously, watching his every movement as though he was expected to do something unpredictable. If anything, they appeared to distrust him more than when they had arrived.

"I would like your help," he said to them. "Can you come with me?"

They considered the others around them, then they rose. Russia knew from it that they were doing it for the sake of the others, not because they wanted to work with him. His guts felt twisted up, but he tried his best to understand.

 _I did bad things before_ , he thought. _They are hurt right now too… They have to learn to trust me._

They trailed him to the kitchen. Along the way though, Russia yanked Ukraine up to her feet. She gasped in surprise and pain, and the only explanation Russia gave was, "You too. I need your help."

Russia kept a tight grip on her arm and took her down the hall, much to the confusion of those left behind.

"Why her?" Poland murmured to himself but was heard by everyone else, who wondered the same. "Is she going to be making borscht?"

No one had an answer. America and Canada took from the stack of napkins and the roll of paper towels, applying pressure to the wounds of the others that had not stopped bleeding. Cuba gingerly felt his bruised back and decided to rest against the wall. He was one of the least injured, but he chose not to rise even when America soon announced, "So, if you guys are good, I'm gonna go check out the damage."

Some nods went his way. America marched down the hall and Canada drifted in behind him. Britain pushed himself up and stumbled after them, calling out, "Hold on, I would like to have a look as well!"

They went all together into the stairwell. Once inside, they could already see that the upper levels were inaccessible, blocked by snow and pieces of the floors above. The sound of their footsteps were muffled as they climbed up and turned into the hall of the ground level. Upon stepping onto the floor however, all eyes widened.

The other half of the hall was completely obstructed by an avalanche of ice and rubble. Many rooms had been swallowed up and the front door was knowingly far beyond the wall before them. They gawked and simultaneously glanced up to the silent ceiling, verifying that it was still flat and without indication that it would collapse soon.

"I think that all the weight slid to the end," Britain said. "This part of the hall should be safe as long as no more pressure is added."

America clenched his teeth and inhaled. He then hissed, "Russia said a blizzard was going on. We better hope that stops ASAP."

They padded toward the blockage. Before reaching it however, they were startled by a broken door hanging from one of the rooms. It was far from the wreckage and there was no damage to be seen above the door, any pressure that could have made it snap open.

"Yo, what happened here?" America exclaimed as he strode up to it. With care his fingers took hold of the width of the door, peeling it open. Wood splintered further and they could now see how the door was beaten and off its hinges. America peered under his hand and saw that the lock was still stiffly out and a rip was in the doorframe.

"It looks like it was locked but someone broke the door down," Canada murmured. "And I know it wasn't like this earlier. It's like either someone wanted to get in, or someone wanted to get out…"

America jolted. He cried, "Dude, that's creepy! Someone that wanted to get out? Are you saying that some random person is lurking about now, hiding?"

"That could be," Britain said. "Or… it is an answer Russia would know. After all, he was the only one conscious between the collapse and now. I don't have a time-telling device on me currently, so I cannot say how long we were unconscious for."

No one had been found with a phone or a watch on them during the search. Russia had said he had called for help however, so they could deduce that he would have the information.

"It's very strange," Canada said. "But I do feel that Russia has something to do with this."

"Then we'll ask him when we go back down," America replied.

He then went to the door across from them and tried the handle. It held fast. This one was locked, and upon investigation he found that all the other doors in this hall were locked too except for the bathroom's.

"Are there any windows in these rooms?" America wondered aloud.

"Russia would have known, wouldn't he?" Britain said. "And yet he never mentioned it."

America pointed at the women's washroom and commented, "At least we have one of those. Do you think there's another downstairs as well?"

"Probably," Britain replied as he approached the rubble. He lay his hand over a block of ice and sighed, "All of our coats are back there. I do hope the heating stays on."

"Is it on now?" America asked. "It's kind of cold right now."

"I'm sure it is," Britain said. "It's colder up here, you'll find, because of the pile of ice right in front of you. There is a literal hole in the ceiling that probably goes right up to the sky."

"Then would digging here be pointless," Canada mused, "if whatever is above will keep falling down?"

"We'll have to try," Britain replied. "If not to escape, but to allow more to fall through and relieve the ceiling above us of pressure."

"How on earth do we get out then?" America cut in.

"We'll figure it out," Britain replied but frowned as he continued to observe the impenetrable wall. "Let's just talk to Russia first."

The trio whirled around and headed straight back down the hall. The next task had them so focused that they ignored the wall of rubble and did not look back to it. They went slowly down the stairs together, Britain wincing from the pain in his spine and starting to lurch on every step.

Once on the lowest level, they passed by the line of faces, where all but the unconscious three looked after them.

Cuba lifted his head and asked, "What did you see?"

Canada halted. Britain and America looked back but Canada said, "I'll tell them how it was. Go ahead and talk to Russia then see me after."

They agreed and went on, coming up to the room where the cafeteria was. They entered on silent feet and sniffed at the floating scent of fresh pirozhkis. Britain took a step, hissed in pain, and received a concerned glance from America. He pushed on past him however, trying to appear strong. America wandered after him discontentedly towards the sound of voices and chopping knives.

They both scooted through the gap between counters and approached the open doorway of the kitchen. Closer now, they could better hear the voices- or rather, Russia's voice cutting off a quieter one.

"Ukraine, remember not to say false things."

They paused before coming into sight of those in the kitchen.

"Before you say anything rude about me to anyone, stop yourself. Otherwise, there will be a lot of trouble. You understand. It is in your best interest to be kind to your own brother. You didn't forget my bread and salt, did you?"

America slid past Britain and peeked into the room. The Baltics were spotted working over cutting boards, pretending that they could not hear the conversation. Russia had his back against the counter with a hunk of meat waiting on a cutting board behind him. His arms were crossed but a stained steak knife was clutched in one hand and upright. America was alarmed by the utter severity in his eyes as he glared at Ukraine, who held a pan and had her head bowed towards it.

There was fear in her eyes. America did not know why she looked so frightened, but he was all the more concerned. Britain stepped up beside him to look in as Ukraine's meek reply came.

"I did not forget it…"

"If you do," Russia breathed, "we will have another _talk_."

Russia jolted when he noticed America and Britain. Ukraine and the three Baltics looked to the doorway to as well be startled. Not enough though, to shake off their nervous dispositions. Ukraine padded to the oven to set the pan on the stove and the Baltics turned back to their work of cutting vegetables. Russia put down his knife and strode up to the duo, a smile touching his face.

"Ah, hello!" he exclaimed. "What is bringing you two here?"

"What were you just talking about?" America uttered. He looked after Ukraine then glared at Russia.

"Nothing important," Russia answered. "She was saying something rude about my cooking. That is all."

America tried analyzing his face. He was convinced he was lying, but he felt that way about Russia so often thus he could not be sure.

"Ukraine, is that true?" America muttered. "I'm right here, so go ahead and tell the truth."

"I-it's true," Ukraine replied softly. "This wasn't anything serious."

Russia's gaze lit up with satisfaction. He said, "You see? You are overreacting again, America. Let's be friends here and drop the hostilities."

"We had some questions for you," America continued on without skipping a beat. "First, how long were we unconscious?"

"Only about an hour," Russia replied smoothly. "The oven has a clock, if you were wondering."

America and Britain looked past Lithuania to the digital clock that displayed in cool blue _2:15_. They had arrived at twelve, so adding together Germany's presentation and everything that had followed after, it seemed to fit together.

"Alright. Now, are there windows upstairs?" Britain asked.

"No." Russia shook his head. "Not on that level."

"Don't you have keys to the rooms?"

"I did."

Britain demanded, "What do you mean?"

"I lost them somewhere." Russia shrugged. "But it doesn't matter, does it? There's nothing in those rooms of the importance."

"The last question," America cut in, "is about a door we found. It is broken but there's no reason for it. What happened?"

"Ah yes, that was me," Russia replied. "I was worried about Britain's back so I was going to use a door and put him on it. Like a stretcher, you see. But… then I thought that it wouldn't work to carry it myself. I might drop him. So I stopped and decided to just be extra careful when holding him."

"Hmm, alright..." America still gazed at him with an unsure expression on his face. "Thanks."

"That is all?"

"Yep."

Russia smiled. "Do you want to help us in the kitchen? If you aren't busy, it might be fun to teach you how to make some food of my place. We are making borscht and golubtsy!"

"No thanks," America said. "We'll just go back up and check on everybody. See if Germany, Japan, or Prussia wake up anytime soon."

Russia looked disappointed. "Okay, some other time then," he replied. "It might be more fun doing peaceful things like that, right?"

America looked all over him. He seemed sincere and nonthreatening in all honesty. Standing in a kitchen, dressed in soft clothes, and smiling faintly at him in the plethora of good scents wrapping around them, made America remember what Russia had said earlier to everyone. His guard dropped a bit and he shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe… If we get out of here I mean."

"Oh, but we will," Russia responded with a nod. "Help will come if we can't get out ourselves. It will only take a few days until then, remember?"

"Right…" America stepped back, feeling awkward now. He was not sure how serious he had been in his answer. The idea was appealing and peaceful but he did not want to commit yet.

"We'll talk to you later," Britain stepped in, saving him from answering. "We really ought to be going."

"Ah." Russia nodded a few times quickly. "Okay, I will see you."

Britain walked backwards to get out of the way. America turned around and quickly went with Britain out of the room to get back to the others in the hall. There, they met with Canada and gave him the summary of the conversation.

In the meantime Russia wandered back to his cutting board. Even now, the Baltics stayed tight-lipped with Ukraine and continued to work. They had not known what Ukraine had started to tell them, but it had not been what Russia had told Britain and America. She seemed to have been on the verge of saying something important before Russia's mood had transmogrified on the dime.

No one had considered contradicting Russia's lie. It had been a while since they had been working under his instruction, and now that sharp, dangerous air had reappeared, they resorted to the survival instincts of decades ago. Seeing his eyes, hearing his low voice, and being next to him while he was holding a knife, made them remember what he was capable of. What he would do without hesitation to them if they stepped out of line.

Ukraine felt owned again although she knew that she was independent in reality. The fear that had kept her silent though, stemmed from the thought of what would happen after she had spilled the secret. She could never hide from him forever. He would corner her again sometime like he had in the bathroom, and there America could not protect her.

 _I shouldn't make him mad…_ she thought. _And maybe it will be better if no one knows… He was friendly with America, so I shouldn't ruin it if they make peace during the time we are trapped here. Russia might have something good planned. I don't know… my brother is so hard to understand…_

 _But I do know he will punish me for sure, if I tell everyone that he drugged the water._

She listened to him slicing the meat wordlessly. Ukraine went to work while knowing full well that he was going to continue making excuses and lying in order to have her beside him at all times. Making sure she never told anyone what he had done.

 _But why did he drug us anyway?_ she wondered. _What did he do during that time?_

Ukraine knew the clock was wrong, and she felt certain that only she and Russia knew that. They had been unconscious for much longer than an hour. Russia had changed the oven's clock in order to keep his story plausible.

Which was all naturally, true. With no sky to see to give them a concept of time, whatever time Russia had set the oven's clock back to would serve the others. After two it would be now, for Russia had made sure that no one but him had any phones to check this.

* * *

 **America is often criticized for not controlling Russia during the Yalta Conference. Some blame it on Franklin D. Roosevelt's health, but Stalin would take over the countries the Red Army had driven the Nazis out of. Right after WWII, Russia takes over the governments of these countries by force and the horror begins.**

 **Bad times would come for those of the Soviet Union and those who were satellites of it.**


	5. Тепло- Warmth

**Marshall Plan:** European Recovery Program. An effort of the US to rebuild Europe because of the damage it had suffered during the war. They gave those in West Europe cheap American goods and helped rebuild buildings, which all led them to joining their side.

It also served to stop the spread of communism by giving them capitalist resources and gaining their trust. This was **Containment.**

* * *

"Watch out!"

A huge chunk of rubble escaped America's hands and flew into the vending machine. Canada covered his face before the deafening sound of glass shattering echoed from the room and into the hall. He peeked at the damage after finding himself unharmed, then he moved in as America began stacking the fallen bottles of soda into his arms.

Just as calm was settling in after the crash, they heard footsteps rushing in. They turned their heads as Russia hurried from the kitchen up to the counter to see what had happened.

"It's all good!" America called out before Russia could say a word. "Just grabbing some of these babies to hand out!"

With his arms full and Canada helping him, they both walked out of the room. Russia cried out in protest after them, "But there is food ready here!"

They were already gone. Russia dropped his shoulders, knowing that he was heard yet ignored. America was already passing out the sugary beverages to the injured and Russia sighed, thinking, _The food I have is better for them…_

Russia turned his head and watched America and Canada re-enter and make a beeline for the broken vending machine.

"We can have dinner soon," Russia told them upon observing them grabbing more soda and now some candy bars. "Maybe it is better to not be spoiling appetite?"

"Some just want some snacks," America replied. "It's no problem."

A flicker of annoyance came to Russia. He stiffened and watched them leave again before he whirled around and marched back into the kitchen. He returned to his cutting board, snatched his knife, then began chopping up a storm while the others looked on in concern.

"Is it really so bad?" Latvia's voice crawled in with hesitation. "It's just some candy..."

Russia bristled from the knowledge that they had heard the exchange of words. Horrified looks were thrown Latvia's way from Lithuania and Estonia, but he continued anyway, "I am kind of hungry too… Can I have something?"

A bang as Russia's knife slammed down onto the board and severed a potato in half. Latvia jumped with a squeak in his mouth and the others twitched.

"If you are hungry," Russia murmured, "eat some cabbage."

Latvia had been tearing the leaves off a head of cabbage and he now gawked at it. "What?" He shook in fear and confusion, wary of Russia's quiet voice. "This?"

"I am allowing you to have some," Russia murmured. "You can accept my offer, or wait until dinner."

Latvia continued to stare at the cabbage, trying to figure out if Russia was serious.

"Why did you stop? Eat or work, Latvia," Russia muttered. "Stop wasting time."

Latvia was startled into tearing off a leaf and cramming it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly as he continued working, scrunching up from the tension tightening the air. The crunches were by far too loud to him and he instantly regretted shoving the bitter vegetable into his mouth. He stood in limp misery, wondering why he had done that and how Russia had pressured him to do it.

 _I can't wait until we're done…_ Latvia pined. At this moment, he forgot all about how Russia had saved him. All thoughts were now directed toward leaving the proximity of this frightening presence.

The potato was sliced with slow tension before being dumped into the pot of water on the stove. Russia scraped the last slice off the cutting board and peeked at the Baltics then Ukraine. All were working quickly and silently. Russia exhaled and put the knife and cutting board back onto the counter, before pausing.

They listened nervously when Russia's voice arose.

"When you are done whatever you are doing, you can go."

He saw all heads turning as four gazes of surprise beset him. Russia looked troubled under the eyes, much to their confusion, as he went on, "We're almost done and you all need to rest…"

The switch in mood confounded them, but they nodded and felt relief lifting the weight off their shoulders. They remembered how their scratches stung and their bruises throbbed, and realized now how fatigued their bodies had become from just this light activity. Sitting down was a dream to be attained.

"I will watch all the things cooking," Russia said. "It is okay if you leave."

They picked up their pace. Everything was swiftly swiped into the right pots and pans, then the dishes were tossed into the sink. At first they began to clean up their stations, but Russia soon interrupted them from it.

"You don't need to do this." Russia turned and faced them. "I can occupy myself while I wait… You just make sure you wash all your cuts well, okay? And no having candy or the sugar drinks. I do not want you to have those."

They headed back to the sink and filed up into a line. One-by-one their faces, forearms, and hands were washed before each one of them very nearly pelted from the room in escape. Ukraine was however, the last in the line and she looked after Estonia in worry as he departed and left her behind.

She stiffened when Russia came up to her side. A flash of the memory of his hand gently clasped around her throat- then it was all she could think about. It came as a surprise when he did not touch her, but murmured, "I don't want to hurt you."

It was not an implied threat; it had sounded of true sadness. Ukraine waited to hear more as she scrubbed her hands.

"You know I don't…" Russia's voice hovered on a sorrowful whine. "You're my sister and I _do_ love you… but, just… please don't ruin anything. I know you remember, and you think what I did was wrong. But, I promise it wasn't."

"It makes it easier to be quiet," Ukraine whispered as she turned off the tap, "if you would please just tell me what your plan is."

Russia frowned. "I don't know if I should be giving you the details… If the others or you know everything that I did, then I will be hated."

She looked at him beseechingly. "Then tell me _why_ you are doing this, and not what you did. Something… please. You are beginning to freak me out."

"I… I wanted everything to be fixed."

He did not say more. She pressed, "What? What needed to be fixed?"

"How people see me." His voice dropped into a quieter murmur. "I wanted to take care of everyone… so they will know that I do care about them. I wanted to spend time together so that we can be friends."

She stepped back, eyes looking all over him. "What are you saying? You meant for the building to collapse?"

Russia locked eyes with her. "That is just crazy talking, sister. You think I can do that? Make the blizzard?"

"But you knew it would happen! Is that why you drugged us? So that time would pass, snow would pile up, then the building would fall?"

Russia muttered, "You are acting smart, but what you are saying is still ridiculous. There was no blizzard in the forecast. I couldn't have planned for that."

"You wanted the building to fall so we would have to spend time with you!" Ukraine hissed. "Are you denying this?"

"I am not confirming anything. That was not our deal. Besides, I have already given you too much information."

"I saw the weather report- everyone did! Or else no one would have risked coming here!"

The corner of Russia's eye twitched after that statement. He slipped past her to the sink, putting his back to her to begin to wash his own hands, forearms, and face. He did not respond so Ukraine went on.

"So how on Earth did you know?" she demanded. "Did you manage to change _all_ the weather reports so no one could see it?"

"No, it wasn't-" Russia cut himself off and shook his head. "You asked for the why. I will not give you any more. None of the whats, the whens, whos, hows, or wheres. My reason is that I was going to make us all be friends. Is that really so bad? Will you ruin that?"

"It's not right…" Ukraine moaned. "You always do this! But Russia, you cannot do bad things when trying to do good things!"

Russia wiped his face off with a paper towel as he uttered, "Please, no one will get hurt if you just stick to the plan. Let's all be nice to each other from now on. Forget what I did or else it really _will_ make things worse. Wouldn't it be great if America became my friend? We could have peace. You really want to spoil _that_?"

"No…" she mumbled.

"And you know I will be very angry with you if you do." Russia crumpled the paper towel and tossed it onto the counter. "Right?"

"Yes..." Ukraine breathed.

"That is good."

He pulled his sleeves back down his cleaned forearms to his wrists. Ukraine watched Russia move back in close and was surprised when he did not stop. He set his chin on her shoulder and slipped his arms around her. She blinked and her arms hung without purpose, not returning the embrace.

Russia tightened the hug gently and whispered, "But I _am_ sorry… and I will make up for it."

"You aren't doing a good job," she murmured back.

"What do you mean? I saved everyone."

"You are scaring people…"

Russia whispered, "I'll try not to."

Ukraine felt Russia's lips touch her cheek briefly.

"I will be _extra_ nice to everyone."

He nuzzled her quickly then let go.

"Things will be different," he said. "I promise. Let's forget all the bad things and start fresh page!"

He did not continue. Knowing that he wanted to finish there, Ukraine crept away until she was out of the kitchen. When out of sight, she hurried out of the cafeteria while throwing multiple glances over her shoulder to make sure that she was not being watched. Once she was in the hall, she spotted the Baltics sitting against the wall with the others, but unlike them, the Baltics were waiting empty-handed.

They had not dared to take anything America had offered them. She did the same, knowing that Russia could have found out eventually by asking around. Provoking him now after having had experienced his affection would make him feel betrayed, angrier than before.

 _He wants to be the hero, not America. Russia doesn't want him to take over._

Ukraine fell against the wall and sank down beside Belarus. She had her eyes closed now and appeared to be sleeping, although Ukraine had seen her awake earlier. The movement beside her however, made Belarus's eyes creak open partway for a moment before falling shut again.

"Are you okay?" Ukraine asked softly.

Belarus was not as bloody as most were, but her fatigue concerned Ukraine. She wondered if there was something wrong with her that she could not see.

"Tired…" she grumbled.

"Here, lie down."

Ukraine guided Belarus, laying her down and placing her head onto her thighs to use as a pillow. She did not let loose any words of protest; Belarus stilled and instantly fell asleep on her lap. Ukraine looked at her knotted, ruffled hair before putting her hand down over her head and giving it a few caresses. The atmosphere became so peaceful and quiet now that she was away from Russia, allowing her to start to doze after a while.

She woke with a jump along with many others at an excited yell.

"Hey, man! How are you feeling? We were getting worried about you!"

It was America. All eyes turned onto him as he knelt in front of a slowly moving Japan. His hand fell onto Japan's shoulder, helping him sit upright and be able to look directly at him. Japan gazed at America past a swollen, black eye as he murmured lethargically, "What…?"

It was the same explanation again. The same shock and dread hit Japan, mainly because of the realization that they were trapped and the building might still fall again. Japan looked at everyone's injuries with a face of full concern, but was especially alarmed once he had spotted Germany beside him.

He jolted. Japan slapped his hand down onto Germany's shoulder and shook him lightly, receiving no response. He inhaled and shook him again, desperate for movement. Germany was so weak and it was unnatural and terrifying to see a person normally so strong in this state. America and the others could only watch his fervent attempts to wake him, having no intentions of interrupting him when they felt the same way.

Japan mumbled his name and pulled an eyelid open. A blue iris was glimpsed before the eye fell shut again. Japan touched Germany's neck despite the smears of blood and found a faint pulse, then he shook him again. It took one more attempt before a soft grunt was emitted and Germany shifted. He soon after stilled again and continued lying on the floor against the wall.

America sat down in front of Germany and extended an arm to shake him as well. His grip on his shoulder was firmer and Germany was pulled into a more conscious state. He groaned and his eyes flickered open briefly before sliding closed again. It almost made America believe that he had gone unconscious again, but then Germany murmured to him.

"A...merica…"

"Yeah?"

"Everyone…"

By now Britain had crept over and France had followed him. They knelt by America and looked over Germany and his wounds as he coughed, "Are they..."

"Everyone is fine," France answered him gently. "A bit battered, but we're all here."

"What happened…?"

"The building had ice on the roof," America said. "Lots I guess. It fell on us and you got about the worst of it."

Germany went quiet. They did not know if he had fallen unconscious again or if he was thinking. Britain assumed he could hear him, and said, "Don't worry about a thing. Let us take care of everything."

After a moment, Germany replied in a weary exhale, "Alright…"

His movements ceased and they decided that it would be best to leave him to rest again. The trio sat down and waited until dinner would be announced as ready, losing themselves in their own thoughts. A half an hour of this passed however, before America said, "'Kay, I know I said it before, but I am _sure_ that it is getting colder! You guys must feel it now too."

Canada murmured, "I think it's about the same as before."

Britain pulled a lip to the side as he considered the air temperature. After a curt hesitation, he replied, "You know… You might actually be right."

"That doesn't make sense," Japan said. "Why would the heating be off when the lights are still on?"

"Personally, I'm wondering how we even have electricity," America sighed. "I mean, the building fell, right? Or are there pieces still intact?"

"The heating was on before," France imputed. "We know that because it was warm during the meeting."

"Well then, it broke somehow," America said. "We have light still from what I guess is pure dumb luck, but no heat."

"But the heating might be on," Canada added gently. "But the amount of ice and snow could be overpowering it."

"The point is, cold's cold." America shivered as a chill ran down his spine. "And that's no good."

It was at this moment that they heard footsteps approaching. Russia made an appearance into the hall and he smiled at them all.

"Dinner is ready!" he purred in a singsongy voice. "Should I bring out things or do you want to eat in the cafeteria?"

"Let's eat here," America replied. "Some people can't make it that far."

"Okay," Russia nodded. "But we have made many things, so I will have to be taking orders."

Russia hopped around from person to person, cheerfully explaining each of the dishes to those who were confused. After taking a few reluctant requests, Russia hurried into the kitchen then passed everything out. When he got to Prussia though, he pretended to check his breathing and pulse. Russia ran his hand through his hair, his fingers then palm gliding through his light locks, before he murmured, "Poor Prussia. I wonder what is wrong with him?"

No one had an answer, but that was fine. Russia was not concerned, especially since he had fed Prussia before so he could do without food for now. He nearly smiled, proud of his attempts at kindness, and thinking that he was doing well.

Russia went along and got answers from the others, even weak ones from Japan and Germany. Food and cups of tap water were given to all before Russia finally got something for himself. With full hands, Russia slipped down the wall beside Prussia to eat. He knew that he was not going to wake up for a while, but there was a purpose for being here.

Russia set the plate and glass down before he pulled off his hoodie. He did it carefully, minding his scarf so that he would not have to take it off. When eyes had lifted to observe the movement, Russia touched Prussia's arm and explained aloud, "Prussia only has T-shirt. He must have hung his coat upstairs, but now he is getting cold."

He worked with Prussia's limp arms, sliding them into the sleeves. The body flopped about, but it was not a difficult task to get it on when the sweater was looser on him. Russia smiled as he placed Prussia in a steady position against the wall, reveling in how many had seen what he had done. While it had been true that he did not want Prussia to be cold, there had been important use to draw from him.

This left Russia in a T-shirt himself now, but he would manage the chilliness of the air in order to solidify the image of him being both kind and strong. Russia fixed his scarf then started eating, glancing at Prussia occasionally as though checking if he was awake. The amount Prussia had been given however, would keep him out for many more hours. Russia was therefore safe to leave him alone and go work on other endeavours after dinner.

Russia went and did everyone one's dishes, but while he was absent, America had started making plans. Russia came back to people mobilizing themselves, heading in different directions. He was surprised, confused, and irritated for having had been left out. He immediately asked of America, "What is going on?"

Before an answer came, a bang startled Russia. He turned around and was shocked to see the fittest people setting themselves on the doors in the hall. His eyes widened as one-by-one, they were kicked in with the loud crunching of busted wood.

"We're looking for items," America said. "Food, first aid. You know."

America checked Russia's face, unsure why there were hints of panic tracing it.

"You're going to break into every room?" Russia gasped.

"Um, yeah," America replied as though he was explaining something obvious. "You said that you lost the keys, dude."

The continued worry on Russia's face made a feeling of suspicion creep into America. It was a natural feeling; it felt right to be back in him.

" _Right_?" America pressed. He watched Russia's movements carefully.

"Ah, yes." Russia nodded and looked back to him. "I do not have them anymore."

"Then what's the problem if we break the doors?"

"I'm just not happy to see the building damaged. People have to pay for this."

America scoffed, "Dude, after what has already happened, I doubt this will matter. They will understand anyway that we were just trying to survive."

"That is true…"

"And you already broke a door yourself."

"Mmm, but that was just one."

Russia walked ahead, passing the few who had only headed toward the bathroom on this level. America watched him approach one of the locked rooms and then deliver a hefty kick to the door. It busted inward after one blow and Russia advanced inside. America hesitated before turning away and taking down a door for himself.

Russia swallowed and flicked on the lights to this room. He strode swiftly inside and around a work desk where he faced a computer. He glanced at the door, and when seeing no one, snuck his hand into a cylindrical container on the desk that held many identical pens.

He extracted some then pulled out a small key that had been at the bottom. Russia kept his eyes on the door as he closed his hand around it and the other jammed the pens back in. Then, as quietly as possible, he unlocked the locked drawer of the desk. Russia quivered as he pulled it open and the items were in full view. Items that if seen by the wrong people, would make the plan fall apart.

Because then they would _know_.

Russia could have filled his pant's pockets and covered the bulge with his sweater like he had with the vodka, but now he could not. He stared at the door and slid his hand into the drawer. Russia lifted the leg of his pants and slid one of the items into his sock along his calf muscle before covering it up. He did the same to the other side. He exhaled shakily, then began putting the rest against his stomach, securing them at his waistline by tightening the drawstrings of his track pants.

Once done, he quickly threw his shirt over them, left the key in the drawer and closed it. His heart pattered as he thought about what would have happened if someone had come to this room before him, deciding that they wanted to see if the drawer held anything useful. Russia felt his hands along his waist and calves, cringing that there were noticeable bulges, at least if someone knew where to look.

Russia needed his sweater. He did not want to carry everything in case he ended up being searched, but if he could cover himself he could avoid suspicion. Russia hurried to the exit and peaked into the hall. So many people were lying against the wall still. America was out of sight but many were walking up and down the hall. Someone was likely to notice, Russia was sure.

He considered going upstairs to hide everything, with the excuse of going to break those doors, but he did not want to look suspicious. Russia considered that he should also report that there had been nothing in that room, otherwise America would definitely think he had run off with something for himself.

Russia could not stand here too long. He tensed up and strolled as inconspicuously as he could down the hall towards Prussia. He tried not to rush and his arms were kept at his sides to at least cover some of the items. Russia dropped down to Prussia's side and made a show for those watching. He ran his hands down his own arms, feigning coldness before bringing Prussia into a hug and whispering, " _Sorry_."

The sweater was pulled off him slowly, getting caught on the joints. Russia became more rigid as he sensed eyes on him, and he felt as though the air was thickening around him. This was taking far too long to do.

Once it was off however, he was shocked that he had not been confronted yet. He threw the sweater on and pulled it over everything, then sighed in relief. To justify the sigh, Russia sat down and pulled Prussia toward him, rubbing his arms then cuddling him.

Russia scanned the faces turned his way. His heart trembled for a moment, terrified that they had noticed, but then he calmed himself with the thought that they had been too distracted by what he was doing with Prussia to pay attention to his clothes. They said nothing, so Russia closed his eyes and hid the lower half of his face behind Prussia's shoulder.

 _Too close_ , he thought. _If they had found them… Stupid America, you almost ruined everything!_

He was not in the clear yet, for he still needed a safe place to hide all these items. Russia wanted to be close to people, but he could not be if they would feel the hard objects under his clothes. If Prussia had been awake, he would have been able to feel the one against his hip right now.

Russia's eyes parted slightly and he regarded Ukraine who was across the hall from him beside Belarus. Both were looking at him, one with worry and the other with jealousy. He closed his eyes again.

 _And I still need to deal with Prussia. I hope he is smart enough to cooperate, otherwise I'll have to…_

Russia did not want to think about that. He was so comfortable right where he was now, feeling the softness of clothes while inhaling the scent of living, warm skin. He did not want to harm him again, or anyone. He wanted to be right where he was now with all of them instead, where there was no reason to invoke pain.

 _I will make everyone so happy._

"Hey, Russia."

Russia glanced up to see France.

"I saw you go into a room. Was there nothing in there?"

"No, just some pens," Russia murmured, "and a locked computer."

"No one's found a thing," Britain stepped in and sighed. "Well, except for mints and gum."

"But that is good," Russia said. "If we cannot brush our teeth, at least we can have those!"

His arms tightened around Prussia. Russia watched Britain and France leaving him before he pulled Prussia closer. Russia opened his legs and brought Prussia up to his front, to completely engulf him in warmth. His legs bordered his sides and he lay Prussia back against his chest. Silvery hair tickled his face and put him into a contented mood, completely opposite to minutes ago. Russia rested in tranquility, enjoying that he could do this without any protest.

It was impossible to consider anything wrong with this. Russia forgot Prussia's feelings as he was overwhelmed by happiness. It was too much for him to handle, this situation of being close to a person not frightened of him. It did not matter to him that the subject of his affection was unconscious and unconsenting.

He stayed here and allowed the others to go upstairs and break down all the doors there. That was fine; he had not hidden anything up there. Russia yawned and considered the time. It was not yet so late into the evening and the others believed it was earlier than that, but he was exhausted.

 _I have a reason to be tired,_ he decided. _It isn't suspicious._

Russia picked up Prussia and started heading down the hall towards one of the opened rooms. Soon enough, Canada was by him and asking, "What are you doing?"

"The closer we are to upstairs," Russia said, "the colder it will be. I want to put Prussia into one of the rooms where it is warmer."

"Oh, okay."

"Also, I am tired. I might lay down for a bit and watch over him."

He left Canada behind and entered the last room of the hall on the right. Russia tapped the door with his foot as closed as it could get, then he went to the corner behind the work desk in here. He set Prussia onto the carpet then he glanced at the drawer of this desk.

It had been forced open. Russia was thus ever the more thankful that he had taken everything out of the other one. Here now though, Russia opened the larger, lower drawer that had not been locked and he deposited all his items inside it. All he could do was hope that no one checked here again, going through the drawers that had before, had nothing in them.

Russia had just closed it silently when he heard the door sliding open across the carpet. He stood up and was promptly confused to find that Belarus was there, a hand pressed against the door frame in a dominating manner.

"What is it?" Russia asked.

Belarus stepped inside and shut the door behind her. "Finally," she muttered. "I've got you alone."

Russia cocked his head as she came closer. "What do you mean?"

She stopped in front of him and planted her hands on her hips.

"We need to talk." She had dropped her voice into a murmur and had switched to Russian. "I know what you did."

"What did I do?" he responded back in his mother tongue.

"You drugged everyone's water."

Russia frowned. "How did you know that?"

"I remember going downstairs," she replied. "But not only that. I heard you talking to Ukraine in the washroom."

"You can't tell anyone," Russia uttered.

"I won't. But why did you do it?"

Russia looked over her. He thought about how much closer Belarus was to him, while Ukraine had been growing distant from him, trying to join the EU. He wondered though, how much he could trust her.

"My dear, little sister," he whispered as he touched her shoulder. "Do you remember the promise you made to me?"

She dipped her head once in a nod.

"I can explain some things to you, so you will understand. But you can't tell anyone. If you love me, you won't say a word. Not to Ukraine. Not Lithuania. No one. _Especially_ not America."

She nodded again.

"This building had to fall," he said. "But I needed to wait. The storm had to come and put the weight onto the roof."

"There was no storm in the forecast," Belarus murmured.

"I know."

"How did you though? And how was that enough to break the roof?"

"The same reason the power is still on."

"That doesn't make sense," Belarus grunted. "The building fell, didn't it? We're all injured."

"It did, I promise. You can look upstairs yourself."

"Explain then."

Russia sighed, "I… don't want anyone to know."

"You don't trust me?"

"I do."

"Then-"

Russia cut in, "But if someone were to force the answer from you… That's why I won't say it."

He walked back around to Prussia. He ushered Belarus over and they both went to sit against the wall by Prussia's still form.

"Why then?" Belarus muttered.

"While we are stuck here, I will use this time to befriend everyone," Russia replied. "In bad situations, we have to stick together. We will bond and we will leave with new views of each other."

"But they will be mad if they know you planned this."

"Yes. Right now, they don't even know that they had been drugged. At least, they didn't catch on. Some fell asleep before the others but they haven't questioned it. They might actually believe that it was only jet-lag and nothing else. The others think that the hit of the collapse was what knocked them unconscious."

"But Ukraine…"

"She knows. Those that left the room must know that it wasn't the ceiling that knocked them out. That is you, Ukraine, and Cuba. But I will talk to Cuba. Maybe he doesn't remember? But he likes me. He might approach me later like you did and we will talk."

Belarus posed a fresh question, "So you plan on being America's friend?"

"Definitely. That is main end goal. If we stop fighting, my life will be so much less stressful. Then everyone else will follow suit because they have whatever opinion America has on me."

Belarus frowned as she considered something new. "Now, did you intend to hurt everyone...?"

"I… was planning to move everyone before then. The roof collapsed half an hour before schedule, but I guess it is easier to hold my story now that they are injured."

"Half an hour? Schedule? How did you get such a precise time?"

"Don't ask," Russia said. "I will not tell you."

He leaned forward at that time to pull open the lowest drawer. Belarus shifted in and looked down with him. Her eyes widened.

"You stole all that?"

"I had so much time to kill," he murmured. "I took some things from everyone and hid it downstairs. I was able to hide them on me during the inspection fortunately, or else they would have known I stole and they would have wondered when that happened."

Russia took out a hot pink hairbrush.

"This is Poland's," he whispered. "I took out the hair already."

Her face brightened. Belarus eagerly turned her back and waited for his touch. Delightful tingles ran down her back as he handled her hair and began to gently remove the knots.

Russia said quietly, "If anyone asks, I did this with my fingers. And it took a long time."

She felt overwhelmed with warmth and did not know what to do with it. She sighed a blissful agreement and fell into a dreamy state as Russia brushed her hair. He was extremely careful not to yank, and once every tangle was gone, he ran the brush through a few more times.

"Can I sleep in here with you?" Belarus eventually asked.

"Yes, but I want to cuddle with Prussia."

"Why?"

"When he wakes up, I will talk to him. Then I will be kind to him so he will like me. After all, it is getting colder and he is in a T-shirt."

"Did you plan that?" she inquired.

Russia replied, "I planned _everything_. More than you will ever know."

"The heating system?"

"I turned it off beforehand."

"So that people would have to be close to each other to stay warm," Belarus summarized.

"Why else do you think I wore this sweater?" Russia chuckled. "Many reasons; this was only one of them. I am going to be the one they come to. They won't be scared. They will want my warmth and I will be very happy to give it to them."

He set the brush back into the drawer and closed it. Russia slid in closer to Belarus and held her as he had with Prussia before, enveloping her in the warmth he had just described.

"Like this," he murmured. "Could you imagine, me this close to everyone? To Britain? To Germany? Or even _America_?"

"The world would be very different."

"That is why I had to do what I did. It is all for love," Russia sighed. "Peace. Some people think I enjoy this fighting, but no one does. I do hate that America is more powerful than me, but if we worked together on everything then it wouldn't matter. My current boss keeps saying this, that America should cooperate with us. So I then thought… I could make it happen. But if he ever found out that this was staged, that I drugged him- then it's over."

"I hope Ukraine and Cuba stay quiet."

"Me too." Then Russia laughed without humor. "You know, when America came in, he was suspicious of the bread because he thought it was poisoned. Isn't that funny? The food was fine and it was the _water_ that had something in it. Knowing that would prove it to him though. That he was right. That I can't be trusted."

"If he distrusted you before…"

"He would never trust me again," Russia finished. "Exactly. That is why I had to be rough on Ukraine. I am really worried that she will tell him. I... had to threaten her. It was the only way. I didn't want to, but I had to be serious. So much is at stake."

"I understand."

"Thank you," Russia breathed. "So, so much."

He nuzzled her cheek and sighed, "You are a good listener... It is good to have gotten some of this off my chest."

Belarus smiled from his affection and closed her eyes in utter placidity. She still had to ask however, even in a mild exhale, "Some?"

"Of course," Russia replied. "Belarus, you have no idea how much I have planned and what I did to prepare for every situation. You know the thing about icebergs? How you only see the tip but underwater, there is so much more to be seen? Imagine that. You only know a little bit, yet there are so many secrets that I am hiding under the surface..."

* * *

 **After WWII West Germany is owned by America, Britain, and France, while East Germany goes under Soviet control.**


	6. Холод- Cold

It started with small movements. Prussia's head flopped to the side and his eyes rolled under their closed lids, as though he was in the midst of a dream. His fingers twitched and his hands closed partway. When more strength came to him, he pointed his socked feet forward and stretched his legs. They quivered stiffly before they and his entire body collapsed into a limp and placid state. He mindlessly pressed into the pillow alongside him, seeking more of its warmth and relaxing completely into it.

Then his mind starting clearing. He became aware gradually that this pillow, although comfortable, was not necessarily soft and it did not have a uniform shape. Prussia also felt what was undoubtedly a hand stroking his hair and the side of his face. By then, other realizations swirled in his mind, realizations of ribs, muscle, cloth, and limbs.

" _Normal'no_ …" a tired murmur breathed while accompanying a pet along the back of his head. " _Spi_ …"

Prussia's eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply. He yanked himself away into the colder air until he was able to spot Russia's face just across from his. At that moment Prussia shot backwards across the carpet with a cry and an automatic stream of German swears. He threw himself up onto his knees and stared at Russia, whose open arms were returning to his sides as he sat up.

The surprise in Russia's expression fell away like peeling wallpaper. A stern face remained and glaring eyes locked with his. Prussia was not intimidated however, when fear and anger burned as an uncontrollable inferno inside him. Prussia did not know where he was and what had happened to him, but just waking up that close to Russia was enough of a horrendous shock.

Prussia finally managed to let his emotions spill out of his mouth and he spluttered, "What the… what the hell!"

He had not meant to swear as he had, but it had happened regardless. The corners of Russia's lips both pulled back in discontentment and his eyebrows lowered further.

Prussia hissed, "What were you doing to…?"

Prussia trailed off as he realized that he was alone with him. They were isolated in the corner of the room and no one else seemed to be in the proximity. The anger was quickly drained from him and his eyes widened. Once again he had been hurled into the situation where he was swimming in dangerous waters, at Russia's mercy.

He swallowed nervously now and felt flimsiness overtaking his cooling body. Russia's head was lowered and forward like a vexed cat with twitching ears. Prussia remembered his vulgarity from before and he stiffened in anticipation, knowing that Russia would not dismiss such disrespectful behaviour.

"You are very ungrateful," Russia muttered. "I was only keeping you warm."

The chill of the air continued to be noticed by his exposed skin. Prussia crossed his arms to keep them warm and to also appear somewhat composed against Russia's glaring.

"Where's my coat?" Prussia demanded, consciously trying to give himself some power in this situation. "And scarf? What did you do- hold on, what did you do with my _shoes_?"

"I have a lot to explain to you…" Russia turned his cheek onto his shoulder and another expression crossed his face, one of uncertainty. "But your coat and scarf I put upstairs. Your shoes though, are right there."

Russia glanced to the side and Prussia followed his gaze to the wall were his sneakers were.

"I took them off in case they were tight," Russia went on. "So you could be comfortable."

So many questions wrestled each other in his mind, trying to be the first to come out.

"But wasn't there a _meeting_?" Prussia ended up asking. "Where... where is everyone?"

"Shhh..."

Prussia went even more rigid when he slid in closer. Russia murmured, "Everything's alright. They're in the hall."

"Huh? Then why are we-"

"Listen. What is the last thing you remember?"

Prussia was still fighting through his fatigue. He closed his eyes and racked his brain until images of the kitchen came to him. He remembered everything that had happened, Russia chasing him, threatening him, and chatting to him in the cafeteria before he had asked him to cook with him. Yet as hard as he tried, Prussia could not find any memories further than that.

He mumbled in reply, "Cooking… We were making..."

 _Wait._

Prussia ruminated on it all. Back then he had been so tired that his vision had started to blur. He recalled now how Russia had taken away his knife while speaking ever so quietly to him. It did not make sense. There was no reason for him to have been that tired.

"Wait a second!" Prussia cried. "You did something! You-"

Russia sprang.

Prussia's yelp went into his hands. His back slammed into the floor and suddenly everything had changed. Russia had his knees on his arms and was over him, pinning him down and seizing his throat in his hands. Prussia's eyes popped in surprise and he gasped before he was given a warning squeeze.

Russia's face loomed over his.

" _You are too loud_."

This confirmed for him that the others were indeed in the hall. Prussia weighed his options. If they were so close, he could scream very loudly now and someone would run in and save him. In that way, Russia could only harm him for a few seconds before someone knocked him off him.

Yet he must have seen the idea in his eyes because without a word, his hands wrapped fully around his throat and pressed in. Prussia clucked once and writhed vainly under his heavy weight. Feeble twitches as his airway was enclosed entirely. The celerity in which his vision was blurring rapidly terrified him horribly and tears dotted the corners of his eyes.

But then it was over so quickly when the hands released their iron grip. Prussia gasped and took in air desperately through his burning throat, confused and left in shock.

He then stared up at Russia in horror, quivering as he realized what he really had done just happened. And could happen again.

"You are smart, aren't you, Prussia?" Russia murmured. "I think you know when you should be quiet."

Prussia could not look away from his cold, utterly serious visage.

"So no matter what you know," Russia continued lowly, "you will not tell anyone else and you never will."

Now Prussia glanced to the side only to find a bureau desk there, covering them from the sight of the door he assumed to be across the room. Russia grimaced and clenched his neck tightly between his hands to regain his attention. Prussia glanced back and looked all over him with huge eyes.

"I do not want to hurt you," Russia uttered. "This is all to be your friend but you are making it so _difficult_. From now on, you can say nothing bad about me to anyone. Nothing about what happened. Even when I am not around, because if you do that, I will find you. Soon after or some other day in the future, and I will punish you."

Prussia nodded dumbly.

"But if that is not enough to convince you..." Russia frowned. "I can do something else. I could make one of your friends disappear instead."

Prussia shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes. Heart pounding and thoughts flashing between images of faces he wanted to protect, he whimpered, "Okay… Okay…"

"Thank you."

 _Thank you?_ More tears. _Why say that in this situation? What the hell is wrong with you?_

Russia watched him as he removed his knees from off his arms. He stayed over him still, but Prussia did not dare try to fight him off. Russia regarded the slightly visible marks around Prussia's throat as he started hesitantly, "Now… I have to tell you what happened. The roof, it fell and now we are trapped here for a bit."

"Wh-what...?"

"Some people are injured, but I am taking care of them."

"Is Germany-"

"He will be fine."

Prussia asked, "Look, please. Can I see-"

"He is resting. You should leave him alone for now."

Russia brought his legs to one side and lay down beside him. Prussia was in no way free however, but the opposite. Russia slipped an arm around him and nestled his head in the crook of Prussia's neck. It took willpower not to flinch when he felt his breath and hair grazing his skin.

"Stay with me," was the sigh. "You don't need anybody else. I won't hurt you when you are being nice like this, I promise."

His one side was warming up again but Prussia felt coldness in his chest. A lump resided in his throat as he fought to calm his fear and anger. Despite what Russia said, he felt in absolute danger. He wanted to scream, run away- escape from him by whatever means.

 _Damn you…_ Prussia's mind growled in helpless indignation. _Damn you!_

Russia pressed into him and Prussia clenched his teeth. He was cuddled more tightly as Russia breathed, "Please… You can't understand but… I have to do this. Don't make me hurt you."

Prussia stayed quiet..

"Are you mad at me?"

He was, after being hurt and feeling like he had been treated like property. Although he was more afraid than anything else.

"I won't hurt you if you say yes."

Prussia swallowed again in his nervousness. He risked saying, "I thought uh… that I couldn't say anything negative about you."

"I meant in front of other people," Russia murmured. "Because then they will think bad things about me."

 _Yeah_ , Prussia thought sarcastically. _God forbid they think anything bad about you hitting and choking me!_

"Prussia, please be honest," Russia continued. "I will make everything up to you if you have any of the bad feelings."

"Fine…" Prussia began hesitantly. "I-I am… a little."

"What else do you feel?"

"I... am afraid."

"To be trapped in the building, or of me?"

He hesitated. It felt like a trap thus he was very tempted to lie. But he did not, instead replying in the faintest of whispers, " _You.._."

Prussia waited for punishment. He shivered when he felt and heard Russia moving, and he watched him sitting up. Their eyes locked, and Russia saw the depth of the worry in Prussia's gaze. Russia slid into him and glided his arms long his sides, hooking under his armpits and placing his hands over the back of his shoulders.

"Forget everything that happened," Russia whispered as he put his face into his neck again. "Starting now, we will be nice to each other so that we will become good friends."

Prussia agreed as he was meant to, but of course he could not forget the abuse he had received so far.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Russia asked softly. "Do you want something to eat? Drink?"

"Can I…"

He wanted to ask to see Germany, but he did not want to ruin the safe mood he had Russia in right now.

"Can we go for a walk? Just to uh, so I can see what happened…"

"Okay."

Prussia thought of this because if Germany was in the hall, he might manage at least a glimpse of him. Now Russia released him and stood, allowing Prussia to put on his shoes then as well come up to his feet. Before a step had been taken toward the door Prussia could now see though, Russia's arm crept around his shoulders and clasped his opposite arm firmly.

"Now remember," Russia leaned in and whispered. "You were injured by the collapse, _da_? Nothing else. If you mention me…"

Prussia did not want to hear the threat again. He nodded quickly. Satisfied, Russia led him somewhat forcefully to the door.

It was like entering another world once permitted to pass through the door into the hall. A nightmare of a world. Prussia gasped and his feet tripped over each other. He might have gone into the wall, but Russia's arm held him steady.

His eyes could not be pulled away from the scene of crumpled, bloodied bodies against the walls. They were like gravely injured soldiers in a makeshift shelter, waiting in the mess of dirt and their own blood for treatment. Prussia cringed to see raw abrasions and cuts across faces and hands, many ripped and stained clothes, and pained expressions scrunching up the faces of those still awake.

A few heads turned their way but without much interest. They were too distracted by their own state of being to wonder about Russia's actions in the last two hours. Why he had taken Prussia to the room at the end of the hall, why Belarus had spent a time with him before leaving, and why she had escorted Cuba to the room before he too had left after a while.

Prussia was concerned however by how exhausted they all looked. He could see in their eyes, how they were waiting for someone to take care of all their problems for them. He had a tingling sensation that much time had passed and yet so little activity had occurred here.

Then he saw him and cried out wordlessly. Germany was lying down motionless, paper towel galore stuck to his body with scarlet patches spotting them. Prussia's eyes flickered over the dark stains all over his clothes and he jolted at the sight of a crooked arm.

"Germany!" he yelped. Without thinking, Prussia leapt from Russia's grasp with his vision tunneling in on his fallen brother. It came as a surprise when he suddenly was halted, and he spun around to notice his forearm caught in Russia's hold.

"Let him rest," Russia said. "Just come along with me."

"Wait, no… Please, you have to let me see him!"

"Can't you see him just fine from here?" Russia hummed.

"But-"

"There's nothing you can do for him," Russia sighed, trying to keep his tone mild and logical-sounding while in the presence of many others. "We've done all we could already. You will just be disturbing him, and he needs to sleep so he can have the energy to heal himself."

Prussia frowned. Those words had sense to him but he could not stop himself from wanting to go to Germany, to hold him and give him comfort if there really was nothing he could offer in terms of physical treatment.

"Then… later…"

"Yes… now come. You need to be taken care of."

Prussia stumbled after Russia as he was tugged suddenly toward the open entrance to the cafeteria. There were no people in sight inside this large room. Its emptiness prompted Prussia to ask of him, "Didn't America show up?"

"He did."

"How many people are here?"

Russia led him to the back and replied, "We are nineteen."

"Is Canada here too?"

Prussia saw Russia nod.

"Then where are they? Are they hurt?" Rapidly Prussia began to become more concerned. "D-did you _find_ them?"

"America and Canada are uninjured," Russia answered as he released his hold on Prussia and headed to the fridge. "But I don't know what they are up to now. I fell asleep, though I am thinking they are only upstairs."

"Upstairs? On the ground floor?"

Russia held the fridge door open and beckoned Prussia over to look inside. As he came closer, Russia said, "Part of it is still up, but the exit is blocked off because the roof collapsed on an angle."

"Figures."

Russia snapped his head to him. Prussia was startled by the sharp gaze fixated on him from out of the blue.

"What do you mean?" Russia uttered.

"Er, uh… It is just strange. Unlucky…"

The words slipped off his tongue until no more came. Prussia swam through a memory, of him standing outside in the parking lot before being captured by Russia. Where he had almost escaped. He now recalled the wall of snow in front of him that had been so unnatural as it seemed to surround only the building itself. Suspicion crept into him but he tried not to show it.

 _I saw something no one was supposed to see_ , Prussia thought. _Didn't I, you psycho communist?_

"Da," Russia replied lowly, bowing his head. "Very unfortunate for us that the building broke that way."

Prussia held his arms as the relentless chill of the fridge spread over his form. He wanted to accuse him, to say that he had planned this building's collapse, but Russia was in a sensitive mood and the old threat still hovered above him. Prussia could not risk the secrets being heard, otherwise Russia would punish him by going after someone close to him. So he only twitched and stayed tight-lipped long enough for Russia to change the subject.

"Okay, now what do you want to have?" Russia asked. "Look in here and pick something you like."

Prussia hesitated. He shot an irritated gaze at Russia and uttered, "You're going to let me choose my poison?"

"Hmm?"

Prussia glanced to the doorway before he whispered harshly, "You did something to my food before!"

"No, the food is safe."

"The water you gave me then."

Russia put a finger to his lips. Prussia's fingernails dug into his flesh as he refrained from lashing out at Russia.

"But I promise nothing will happen to you this time," Russia said. "You can drink the tap water here so you will know that is safe."

Prussia recognized the unspoken words _and not drugged_. Unable to tolerate the cold any longer, Prussia snatched a random container then fetched himself a cup to fill with tap water. During the endeavour however, he hissed very quietly, "You drugged everyone, didn't you? That was why you were walking around earlier. You planned-"

A hand was slapped over Prussia's mouth.

"Let's be friends..." Russia mumbled with heavy lips. "Stop acting like that is a bad thing. I won't give you details because you don't need them, not because I am afraid you will tell because I know you won't. So, be nice to me and I will do the same."

The hand fell away and took hold of the container. Russia set it on the counter and popped the lid off for him, then withdrew to allow him to take what he wanted.

"You can't expect this to stay a secret," Prussia hissed, barely containing his fury. "They will find out it was all you!"

"How will they? I have made sure that all those who need to be quiet, are quiet."

 _Just how many people did he threaten?_ Prussia thought, aghast.

"Eat up, Prussia," Russia said now. "We'll go back soon and sleep."

Prussia instantly knew what Russia expected. He wanted to be close again and in a comfortable position, expecting that they act amicably toward each other to become _friends_. Like hell Prussia wanted what he did. He could forgive nothing that had been done to him today and still nothing from their past together, the trauma of the Soviet times leaving him with a simmering grudge.

It explained why his jacket and scarf were missing. Prussia knew that Russia had taken them away on purpose so that he would have to depend on his warmth. The thought aggravated and disturbed him.

 _I can cuddle with anyone else_ , Prussia growled mentally, wishing he could say it instead. _I refuse to fall to your schemes!_

Prussia ate the food cold and while standing, not caring for the flavor when so much was occupying his mind.

 _Sure, I might not tell everyone about your lies and plans, but don't think I am going to rely on you!_

"You wanted to walk a bit," Russia started up quietly. "It could be good for you, because you are _injured_ and everyone should know that."

Prussia's eyebrows lowered but he only continued to eat. Now that he was awake, he knew there was nothing wrong with him except for the bruise on his temple that throbbed only lightly.

"If you are not good at acting," Russia whispered, "then we could always make it real."

"Got it," Prussia muttered dryly. He closed his eyes tightly and took a long drink, as though if he did not look at Russia long enough he would disappear.

Russia smiled. "Good, then I can show you the upstairs before we go sleep."

The blend in behaviour, of comity and menace, confounded Prussia. He could not tell if Russia was pretending to be nice or if he really wanted to be kind. He did not want to believe the latter out of spite, thinking that Russia's idea of friendship was like a contract of ownership and he was only doing what he could to regain control of him.

 _That's why he invades countries. He just wants to control everything_!

At that time Russia came closer. The hairs of Prussia's neck rose and he turned his face away as Russia slipped an arm around him and put his face into the back of his head. Prussia glared at the floor with one twitching eyelid and hastened to finish off everything he was holding.

Russia shifted more behind him and then his other arm came up and went around him as well. Here he stayed in silence for a minute, hugging with his eyes closed and inhaling the lingering scent of whatever shampoo Prussia used. He felt calm doing this and hoped that his attempts to be kind were noticed by Prussia, so that he could know that he was trying to make up for saying his horrible threats.

Prussia was meanwhile hoping that someone would walk in and help him out of this situation. No one came however by the time he had finished his food and drink. They had not had the energy to check on him or to get up, thus he was left to survive on his own yet again. There was a wave of relief though, when Russia began pulling away from him once he had noticed that Prussia was done. But then he stopped without warning and Prussia jolted when Russia gasped then squeezed him.

He coughed when his guts were crushed he desperately wondered what he had done wrong.

"What?" Prussia yelped. "What happened?"

Russia seemed to realize how tightly he was holding him. His arms dropped away and Russia backed off.

"Nothing for you to be concerned about," Russia murmured.

Russia turned and put the lid back onto the container. He tossed it back into the fridge then spun around and regarded the cup still in Prussia's hand.

"Wash that, then we'll be going."

Prussia exhaled then went to the sink. Russia made sure that Prussia had his back to him and was occupied, before he started backing up toward the opposite counter. His hand crept back and felt for the wooden rack of knives. Once locating it, he gripped a handle and yanked the knife free. Heart pounding, Russia tucked it carefully against his hip under his pants, then covered the form of the knife with his sweater.

It had all gone unnoticed by Prussia. He turned off the water and balanced the cup on the already full drying rack before turning back to him. Russia closed the distance and put his arm back around him, leading him wordlessly out from the room. Prussia noticed a sort of urgency to his pace that was new. They whisked down the hall, with Prussia being dragged along and barely given a chance to feign being injured in the leg.

Once past the two lines of people, they walked through the quiet part of the hall up to the stairwell. The soft thuds their feet on the carpet were too loud and had a serious air about them. Prussia checked Russia's face and caught something strange there. The lines of his face indicated fury although Prussia could tell that this anger was not directed at him. If that had been the case, then Russia would have been glaring at him instead of forward to where they were going.

It was evident that Russia was immersed in calculative thoughts. Prussia became increasingly more worried for what was to come as he was yanked up the stairs. His eyes flashed up to the top to examine the way further up that was clogged with snow and rubble. Before then, they turned onto the ground floor where Prussia was able to see the collapse at the end of the hall. His eyes as well swept over the door he had broken down, but he said nothing about it to the group of people gathered by it.

Now Prussia understood why Russia had been anxious to come up here. The eyes shining like cold chips of ice locked onto America and it became apparent that something had happened between them already.

"Oh hey!" America exclaimed. "Prussia's awake!"

"Ah yes," Russia muttered. "He is hurt, but I have been taking care of him."

"Cool, cool. Well, while you've been napping, we started running the taps on low in the bathroom and we tried moving stuff away from the entrance."

"It's not going well…" Canada murmured. Russia heard him but did not shift his focus away from America.

"You also checked all the rooms," Russia uttered, his eyes having had already glimpsed the freshly damaged doors of every room in the hall. "Did you find anything?"

"No." America spoke calmly and without malice, but his forehead wrinkled as he concentrated on Russia. "Why?"

"That is shame."

Prussia felt the irritation bristling underneath Russia's skin, as though he was radiating crackling electricity in this quiet atmosphere. He could not figure out what had Russia so riled up, but it seemed as though he was on the verge of lashing out. Prussia bit his lip and stuck his hands into his pants pockets, watching the mess of snow and the chunks of wood that the group had pulled from the blockage lying just a bit away.

"Anyway, we were trying to dig to the entrance but things just keep falling down every time we take something away," America said. "It's like we thought."

"We will just have to keep trying," Russia replied lowly.

Now it was not just Prussia who knew that Russia was barely controlling his choler, and that there was something he wanted to say. It was in his tone, stance, and expression. America was starting to change his posture as well, as though in preparation for action.

"Yeah…" he drawled with hesitation, keeping a wary eye on Russia. "We will."

France and Britain glanced at each other then at America in expectation.

"America."

Here it was.

"What?"

Russia's eyelid twitched. He asked, "Did you take a knife from the kitchen?"

Prussia blinked. He had not known about this, but now it explained why he had gasped in the kitchen.

"Um, no. Why?"

"I saw that one was missing. I am wondering where it went off to."

"Wasn't me, bro."

Nothing on Russia's face indicated that he believed him.

"No one else was moving around while I was asleep, were they?" Russia clenched his jaw. "You four seem to be the only ones up, so I am thinking that it was one of you."

"Why would we have taken it?" Britain argued. "In a time like this, do you think we would want to cause trouble?"

"If you have a problem," Russia hissed. "Why not have us discussing it? It is friendlier that way. We were talking before and that was fine."

"I didn't take your knife," America sighed in exasperation. "I don't know. Maybe there was always one missing."

"The rack was full after we were done cooking. Someone took a knife from the kitchen when I was sleeping."

"Don't know what to say. You don't believe me, but I'm telling you I did not steal it."

Russia stepped forward toward him briskly. America's instinct was to put up his hands to guard himself, clenching them into light fists. Russia halted and America cried, "Hey, don't you touch me, man!"

America took a step back and glared. Russia growled, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are _you_ doing this?" America retorted. "I don't like how you've been treating everyone so far since we've got here. You were bothering Ukraine and making the Baltics work when they were hurt. I don't even think Prussia looks happy to be beside you. You are the one being aggressive, so how can you even accuse us?"

Russia's muscles were seen tensing. "I have only tried to be kind since everyone arrived! I made treats for you. I tried to make you comfortable. I _saved_ you."

"For what reason?" America muttered. "You probably have some sort of ulterior motive. You always do."

"I don't. I wanted to help."

"And since when do you?"

Britain limped in to step between them. He put his arms out and snapped, "That's enough! The situation is bad enough, so let's not fight when we're stuck here together!"

Russia quivered, blatantly furious that nothing was being resolved.

"Who went into the kitchen?" Russia demanded.

"Nobody!" America threw back from over Britain's shoulder.

"Stop it!" Britain commanded. "Both of you, right now! I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding."

"Go back to sleep." America tossed his head up as he addressed Russia. "Stop trying to cause problems."

Russia snarled, "You are the-"

"Cut it out!" Britain clapped his hands together forcefully once. He pointed at Russia then said, "We'll look for the knife later. Just go back downstairs."

France flinched at the gaze of cold fury now locking onto Britain. Prussia's heart pounded rapidly and he tried to search for a way to ease this situation. He tried to remind Russia of his presence, creeping up to him until he was seen. Once noticed, Russia seemed to be struck by a reminder. He relaxed slightly, coming to a decision, before he snatched Prussia's wrist and towed him away.

The grip was painful. Prussia had expected this would happen, but when in the stairwell he hissed in pain and wiggled his arm. To his surprise, Russia relaxed his grip until it was a loose hold.

"You will stay with me tonight," Russia said. "No one will bother us."

After the tense situation they had just been in, Prussia was not eager to provoke him. Especially if they were to be alone again. They moved past the collection of the injured and Prussia noticed how Russia was eyeing many up. He wondered if Russia was going to force one of them to join them. After all, it seemed as though he had been on the verge of stopping suddenly to yank someone to their feet and take them with them.

Cuba pretended to not be so interested in Russia although he was. He lifted his weary eyes and watched him go by, in silence despite of what he had learned. He noted Prussia's nervousness but the hold Russia had on him indicated that he was not intending to harm him. Thus, Cuba was going to let it play out and see if anything positive would come out of it, even if he was still uncomfortable and nervous about the methods Russia had used thus far to get them to this point.

Russia checked China, slumped and asleep with his deep lacerations. He scanned the dozing Baltics, Austria and Hungary, then the bloody splotch on Poland's thigh. Finally he locked eyes with Belarus and nodded. She could come in now. Prussia had been dealt with.

"Would you like anything before we go to sleep?" Russia's formerly cold tone had warmed into a mellow one. He was looking forward to cozying up with his potential, new friend, which was also a distraction from the dilemma of the other missing knife.

Prussia glanced to the bathroom. Russia had been watching him so he nodded and said, "Ah yes. Then you go in and I will get a drink for you."

Prussia was released in front of the bathroom. Before he went in however, he murmured, "No thank you."

"This water can be for both of us. I will drink it too."

Prussia frowned. He did not want to argue more and if he saw Russia drinking the water, then it would likely be safe if he ever got thirsty enough to drink it. He pushed through the door and entered. Prussia waited a minute, then peeked out into the hall to see if Russia was gone. If he was, then he could get to Germany and stay against the wall where Russia could not find an excuse to pull him away.

But right there against the wall opposite to the door was Belarus, now standing. She glanced at him in surprise then ire, as though she had not believed that he would dare do this although she was definitely where she was now in case this would have happened.

He started to move anyway, but at that time she came forward as though to go into the bathroom herself. Belarus shoved herself in so that Prussia was driven back inside, stumbling for balance. A harsh glare fell upon him and Belarus was swift to utter, "You shouldn't be so rude to him when he is trying to be good."

"Good?" Prussia huffed. "You can't really think so highly of him. You can't deny the bad things he has done before and how dangerous he is now."

"He is strong, but not malicious. If you are nice to him, he will be to you."

"You mean if I do what he says like a good puppet!" Prussia countered. "That's what Russia wants from people. Obedience!"

"He wants to be your friend."

"I heard that already," Prussia spat. "Doesn't sound very believable!"

"You will be his friend," Belarus growled. "I want him to have them. He won't be hurt that way."

She walked back to the door and unlocked it. She slipped outside and Prussia groaned, knowing his near future was limited. He hurried to finish up in here in case Russia decided to come in, something that would drive him mad from utter awkwardness. He washed his face and bare arms, warming them with hot water, then exited and crashed into Russia's embrace in the hall.

"Wait here," Russia murmured before slipping around him and going into the room he had just left.

The door closed and Prussia glanced down the hall to where Germany was. His heart picked up, longing to be there ever the more so as he spotted Italy awake beside him, fretting over him and visibly worried about his injuries. Bruises and cuts littered Italy's body but he seemed not to care as he touched the disheveled hair on Germany's head. Prussia took one step toward them, then Belarus snatched his wrist.

It hurt more than Russia's previous grip on that wrist had. No one could see from this angle how she was holding onto him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his hand immediately numbed.

"He wants to be your friend," she uttered quietly again, firmer this time. A chill scampered down Prussia's spine. He looked to her and grimaced when something in his wrist cracked. He tried to pull away, stepping toward Germany, but was surprised by how solid her stance was. She yanked back and stared at him with an icy gaze of determination.

It was baffling how much she was supporting Russia. Then it clicked. Prussia whispered, "You know what he did. How he planned this."

She glared silently.

"He's nuts!" Prussia whispered urgently. "Stop helping him!"

"You don't understand how important this is to him. You have to help him too."

Prussia exhaled in disbelief, "Me? Are you kidding? He is nothing but a crazy-"

He had tried to pull away but her grip had never slackened. She kept him in place as she hissed, "He does not want to hurt you. All you have to do is not make him."

The door opened and Belarus let him go. Prussia took the time to hide his marked wrist behind his back, in case Belarus was not going to mention to Russia his intention to leave after having had reprimanded him. To his slight relief, Russia seemed to be in a better mood. He checked the glass of water he had given Belarus, the one that not a single drop had been spilled over the side of, then he took hold of Prussia gently.

Russia led him to the end of the hall and Belarus followed, carrying the water. He pushed in the broken door then closed it once everyone was inside before turning on the light. Faint gold washed over everything as the water was set onto the desk and Russia led Prussia to the other side of it. When Russia lowered himself down, Prussia had no choice but to do the same. They knelt, Russia turning his head and smiling softly at him.

Russia whispered, "Take off your shoes so your feet don't hurt."

He let go, allowing Prussia to take them off. He sat and turned, removing his shoes then setting them by the wall. Russia slipped out the knife although Belarus was watching, then crammed it under the crack between the desk and the carpet. An extra finger tap, then the handle blended in with the darkness. Russia was caught only taking off his own shoes by the time Prussia was turned and regarding him warily.

"Prussia."

Dread coursed through his being. He looked to Russia and knew exactly how little choice he had. Belarus's glare was on his back and Russia's smile faced him.

"Come here."

He did. Prussia glided into Russia's open arms and closed his eyes tightly. He inhaled as Russia murmured something soft in Russian that he had been too distracted to take notice of, then stiffened as a hand swept over his back.

Russia could feel his rigidity and was unhappy for it, complaining, "I don't like this. Relax. I will not hurt you."

Prussia did not want to relax. He wanted to stay suspicious and alert, yet he did not want to hear any more threats and feel anymore pain. He reluctantly went limp and survived through the delighted purrs of Russia and the caresses on his back.

"Ahh, this is much better than hating each other, da?"

He agreed quietly. Prussia was soon after made to lie down and become nestled in his arms, bitter that he wanted the heat Russia had but had been forced to accept.

"I will make sure that I can do this with the others," Russia sighed into his hair. "Many friends… I like that idea. Always cozy..."

Belarus snuck up. She dropped down to the floor and wiggled in to curve around Russia's back. He did not say anything about it; Russia only gladly accepted the warmth there because although he had a sweater, he as well got cold when all alone.

Prussia did not like being this close, but he could not deny how nice it felt to have the cold chased away. His goosebumps faded and his muscles were relieved of their slight quivering. He exhaled and set his face against Russia's chest, warming it in the decision that if he was going to be here, he was going to get the most out of it.

Not that he forgave him in any way. _Of course not_. But this was only the beginning and things were sure to get worse. He was going to have to get through this until help came and everyone was rescued from the collapsed building.

"I hope you are warm, Prussia," Russia breathed. "This is nice, isn't it?"

He vaguely answered to both things, "Yes."

Russia was so content here that this reply was enough to elicit another purr. He smiled and sighed, "Ah, that is good! I am happy too."

* * *

 **With Russia taking a knife, now there are two missing.**

 **Also I apologize, but I always seem to pick on Prussia in my fics. Don't worry though, I intend to pick on many more in this story besides him as Russia's mental state deteriorates.**


	7. Холоднее- Colder

**Characters of the USSR (those Russia definitely wants close) : Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Estonia, Lithuania, and Latvia.**

 **Satellites of the USSR (ideal targets for friends): Hungary, East Germany (Prussia), Austria (partly, because it was also split between west and east), and Poland.**

 **Communist countries (become communist a little after WWII, so not yet close to Russia): China and Cuba.**

* * *

"What's Russia's deal?" America muttered after a few minutes of thought.

He tapped France to the side once seeing him trying to remove a broken desk by himself. He dragged it out with ease while Britain replied quietly, "I think we ought to figure out what he meant about a knife being missing. I doubt he made that up, as he was quite upset about it."

"We've been upstairs," France murmured. "We wouldn't know if anyone had been moving around down there. I thought they were all resting… Why would anyone decide they needed a knife?"

"I don't blame them." America shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to have a knife around when with Russia, especially when he has been acting as sketchy as he has been."

"We just have to ask those awake downstairs, if they saw anyone go into the cafeteria," Britain said. "No doubt someone would have seen them."

Canada offered, "I can do that now. I know how to go about it without causing any panic."

The other three nodded at him in approval. Canada commenced his task immediately and glided down the hall to the stairwell. He gave the snow wall blocking the upward route a glance, making sure that it had not pushed downwards, then proceeded to the lowest level.

The first he reached was the trio of Italy, Japan, and Germany. Italy was mournfully combing through Germany's hair with his fingers, dragging out dirt, wood, and flakes of dried blood. He was attempting to push it back to retake its normal style, but this was a vain effort when so much of his gel had been rubbed out.

Canada softly sat down beside them adjacent to Italy. Germany's eyes stayed closed but Japan fixated his weary and confused gaze upon him.

"Hey," Canada whispered. "How are you faring?"

"We're okay," Japan replied. "And Mr. Germany is resting well."

At the mention of his name, Germany's eyes opened a crack and lackluster blue found Canada's form leaning forward from behind Italy.

"That's good to hear," Canada said. "Now, I was wondering about something. Could you tell me if you saw anyone go into the cafeteria? Something's been reported missing from the kitchen."

Japan thought carefully before replying, "I am not sure about where everyone went, because the washroom and the cafeteria are beside each other and I wasn't paying attention. Who got up? Let's see… Ms. Hungary and Mr. Austria… Ms. Ukraine, the three Baltic gentlemen, Mr. Poland, Mr. Russia, and Mr. Prussia…"

"And me," Italy added softly, trying not to be too loud around Germany.

"Ah yes." Japan nodded.

"Is that all?" Canada asked.

Italy said, "Belarus was up too and she was talking to Prussia. I think she was angry with him, because she looked really mad!"

Canada looked around but she was not in sight. He inquired, "Is she with them now?"

"Yes," Japan replied. "They went to the room down the hall again."

 _But it wouldn't make sense that she would take it. She isn't afraid of him, I think… unless she did it to protect him. Yet I would imagine that she would have told him that._

"Thank you," Canada concluded. He nodded at them, then rose to meet with the people who had been listed.

He met with four at once: the Baltics and Poland. He asked them if they remembered who had been moving around since he had been upstairs with America, Britain, and France, to which they gave the same list Japan and Italy had given.

They had included themselves, but then Canada asked, "Did any of you happen to go into the kitchen?"

"There?" Poland blinked. "What would we have wanted in there?"

Canada murmured more quietly, "It's okay if you tell me. I'll understand."

"I don't understand what you are asking about," Estonia said.

"Look, it isn't a problem, but we were wondering who had taken a knife from the kitchen."

"We don't have a knife," Lithuania spoke up. "You can search us if you would like."

Canada replied, "That won't be necessary but… you really all went to the washroom only?"

They nodded together and Canada scanned their faces but could not find anything out of place. The Baltics seemed as nervous as they often were, and Poland wore an expression of passiveness. Canada thus went on and Austria and Hungary were visited next, woken from their light sleep. They were barely able to answer him, so exhausted that one would nod off while the other one answered. They could not remember anyone else getting up but themselves, and in the end Canada was assured that they had not gone into the kitchen. He finally made it to Ukraine and spoke to her, but she answered him so quietly and in a non-aggressive manner that he could not believe that she was lying.

He was at a loss. Everyone who had moved in the past two hours seemed equally innocent and he could not determine who had stolen the knife. Canada had the feeling that Russia was being honest about a knife being missing, yet he could believe the others more than he could Russia.

It was so that he ended up going to the kitchen to investigate. He padded in and soon realized that questioning the others had not been in vain. There was a knife missing- two missing. His eyes locked onto the two empty slots of the wooden knife rack and he felt dread lapping at his insides.

 _He only said one was missing. Did someone take another knife? Or did_ he _take one in retaliation?_

Canada hurried out back into the hall and turned his head toward the isolated room at the end of the hall. Confliction attacked him; he knew Russia needed to be confronted yet accusing him of anything would offend and anger him. It was more dangerous to go alone, but if America was with him things were certain to escalate.

Enough courage was summoned up after a deep swallow. Russia would not dare attack him, he was sure. Belarus and Prussia were with him, and Canada believed that Russia and Belarus had lost enough of their former closeness that even she would be against Russia harming him. Not that he thought it would come to that. Canada was confident in his calm and soft tone that could find a way to speak to Russia without provocation.

He headed to the room at the end of the hall. Canada decided to knock on the broken door to appear polite, before pushing it inwards. Rustling movement in the darkness was heard as Canada flicked the light switch and eliminated the parallelogram of light entering the room. Instantly he saw Belarus, standing and poised in the corner behind the desk where he assumed Russia and Prussia were as well.

"Hello," he began in respectful address. "I was just looking to see if we could talk."

Belarus was silent, knowing it was not her place to speak on this manner. Russia's voice crawled over the desk to him in a grumble, "What is it?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I went around, asking people about the knife."

Canada crept into the room, leaving the door open. He strolled up to the desk then drifted to the side, finally able to see Russia lying on the floor. He jolted from surprise to see Prussia, someone known to abhor Russia, up against him with his face touching his chest. His bare arms were covered by the loose cloth of Russia's sweater and one of his arms served as Prussia's pillow. He might have been comfortable, but Canada did not believe so when Prussia's eyes were squeezed shut as though he was trying to block out reality.

"And?" Russia's fingers curled in Prussia's hair. His head was turned slightly and his half-lidded eyes regarded Canada carefully.

"I couldn't find out who took it," Canada replied.

Russia said, "Then we should search everyone to find it."

"Well… We can do that, but to be fair everyone should be searched."

"I think you should check the Baltics first, or Ukraine." Russia's gaze sharpened ever so slightly. "They might have overreacted… They do it so often, you see."

"Sure, but…"

"But what?"

Canada noticed how Prussia's eyes seemed to squeeze even more tightly together.

"Just that… I went into the kitchen and saw that two knives were missing," Canada went on hesitantly. "Did you know about this or…?"

"What are you saying, Canada?"

"If two are missing… I wonder if that means the same person went back and took one more, or if it was another person entirely."

"It was only one before," Russia murmured. "The other one must have been taken while I was upstairs."

"That is possible, but…"

"Yes?"

Canada asked softly, "Did you take the knife because you thought America did?"

"So you think I took a knife?"

"There's no need for trouble," he continued. "If you just give it back..."

"Why do you think I am causing trouble?" Russia muttered. "Everyone always thinks I am looking to create problems. But none of you would ever admit that it was _you_ who started it."

"No, I didn't mean to say-"

"You are just like America."

"That is not true. I only want to solve this and so I have to ask questions like this when there is evidence to suggest that it was you."

"Drop it," Russia exhaled. "Let's not have any problems, _da_? We should just be friends instead."

"I would prefer not to get off topic…" Canada sighed. "And you haven't answered the question really. Did you take a knife to defend yourself or not?"

"You always think I am the bad guy, accusing me first."

"I asked other people about this already," Canada replied. "You are the last one… and it doesn't mean you're bad if you were just concerned for yourself."

"I think you are lying," Russia told him. "You act nice to everyone, don't you, Canada? But behind my back you say other things about me. I see your news reports. Nothing positive, just like America but… maybe not so crazy. But you see me as a villain too. We could work together, finding the knives… How about this instead? Here is my friendly offer."

"You… are avoiding the question still."

Russia detached himself from Prussia and sat up to glare at him. Their eyes locked and Russia uttered, "I see. You want to have power over me instead of cooperating. You want an answer? I did not take any knife. I would not do such a thing because I know how you would think of me if I did."

He allowed Canada to search all over his face. And because Canada did not know him, he could not tell if he was being honest or not, thus he assumed the latter.

"Please just tell me where it is," he breathed out in exasperation.

Russia crouched now, one hand spreading tensed fingers over the soft surface of the carpet. Prussia kept his eyes closed and stayed immobile on the floor while Belarus kept mum. There was a pause on Russia's part, before he smiled and responded, "You are so predictable, Canada. I do not like it, but that is how it is. America's brother. Thinking that I am a liar no matter what… and maybe I was lying. Why wouldn't I, after all?"

Russia nodded to himself.

"You would get me in trouble for having it no matter what you said. And now I am wondering… to what extent would you go to find the truth? Would you punish me, hurt me, isolate me? Ah… but that is done already and still you do not ever know how truthful I am. So you will always say that I am a liar and tell everyone that is how it is, because it is easier."

"I am not so simple," Canada stated. "I am being as open-minded as I can, but what you are giving us isn't much. You play with words, you say lies- sometimes big ones, sometimes little, and you hurt people."

"And America is different, then?" Russia countered.

"He has made mistakes, but he is not as corrupt as you."

Russia rose, straightening up to stand higher to Canada.

"And what do you know about me?" His voice dropped. "You aren't even European, and yet you and America are making all of the European nations share your opinion about me."

"You don't have freedom of speech, for one." Canada kept himself tall, refusing to falter.

"Hmm, I wonder how many Russian newspapers you have been reading to be sure of this. But you don't think at all that people being free with words is bad. People in your countries write their ignorant opinions for the population to read and be influenced by… Tell me. Is spreading false and biased opinions better than restricted opinions? Is having a like-minded population not better than having a divided, violent one?"

Canada did not like these questions, of how he was critiquing the North American system and his brother indirectly.

"Where is the knife?" He lost some of his patience and it came out as a demand.

"I don't have one. So then let's find them together." Russia moved closer. His hand slid onto Canada's shoulder. "Think of how nice that would be."

Russia raised his other arm, coming in to place him into his embrace. Without hesitation, Canada backed away and said, "I tried talking to you. I gave you chances, but you wouldn't cooperate… I am getting America."

Prussia's eyes flashed open. He saw the twitch that had affected Russia's entire body then the tensing and quivering of his muscles. He was likely to be viewing Canada with blazing, icy eyes of calculating, murderous intent.

"You are just America's little lap dog," Russia hissed, his shoulders pulling back. "Two-faced, passive-"

"I am sorry that your corruption disturbs your mind," Canada murmured. "But just think of the things you are saying and doing. They are not right."

Russia jolted then stepped forward. Prussia panicked when he caught that flicker of fear crossing Canada's face as Russia approached him. Prussia's hands slapped against his face and he yelped, "W-wait!"

Everyone was surprised to hear him finally speak. Russia stopped in his tracks and snapped his face back toward him.

"Canada…" Prussia continued. "I… was in the kitchen with Russia and… I never saw him take a knife. I didn't notice how many were missing but… he didn't take one."

Russia's entire body relaxed as Canada blinked rapidly, asking, "R-really?"

Prussia nodded.

"Oh…"

Canada seemed legitimately lost. He had truly and strongly believed that Russia had been lying and hiding the knife, and Prussia's more credible words had blown him away. It even appeared as though for a moment, that Canada was going to ask for confirmation again, but then he frowned and turned away.

He was too ashamed and confused to look at Russia when he apologized. His words flew back to him as he left the room to escape these uncomfortable feelings. Canada even forgot to turn the lights back off as he struggled to comprehend the idea of an innocent Russia.

At his back, Russia smiled. Then to Prussia, a larger smile was given. He knelt down before him until he was just a bit taller than him. He patted Prussia's head and stroked the sides of his face as he praised him.

"Very good, Prussia," he purred. "I am so happy you stood up for me. I did not expect this…"

He hugged him and massaged his back, now whispering, "Ah, what a good friend you are…"

Prussia glanced to the side and did not protest to Russia's affection, and definitely did not consider telling him that he had only said what he had to protect Canada or prevent a fight with America. He had seen no knife taken, but Russia had gone to the kitchen by himself another time to fetch water and he could have stolen one then. In a sense, Prussia had not lied, but he did have his suspicions.

Russia went quiet and continued pressing his fingers into his muscles. Prussia tried to hate this, but could not deny that his back had been stiff from how he had been lying earlier, and that now the pain was floating away. He did not want him to stop, but he wanted anyone else to be doing this to him.

"See? It is good to be kind to me," Russia chuckled after a while. "Do you like this little reward?"

Russia raised one hand and held onto the back of his head gently, pushing it in so that it rested against his chest. Prussia exhaled slowly as each knot was loosened in his back and he grew drowsy from the touch of the warm, large hands. He hated that he liked it, this different treatment from what he had been given before. This was safe and pleasant, even if he had no choice in being here.

The next time Russia spoke to him, it was in Russian, which Prussia regretted to know enough of to be able to understand him.

" _I think we should sleep now_ ," he had murmured. " _I am so tired_."

Russia took a drink before dragging Prussia back into the position they had been in before. Belarus took it upon herself to turn off the lights, close the door, then join them. By then Prussia could not help but succumb to sleep when warmth lingered on his back and more was engulfing him now. When it came down to it, it was better to be on Russia's good side here than alone and discarded in the cold air.

* * *

"I just _know_ there was a reason he was worried..."

America stalked around the room Russia had broken into hours ago. He checked the drawers, finding them all unlocked and empty. He peeked in the corners and shelves, but there was nothing here that could be useful.

Staring up at the ceiling, he mused, "Maybe he's hiding food for himself along with that damn knife."

"Hey."

America jumped and spun around, slapping a hand against his heart and crying, "Oh my _god_ , Canada! Don't just sneak up on people like that!"

"I didn't... I just walked in normally," Canada murmured. "Anyway, what are you talking about?"

"Russia looked worried back when we started breaking into rooms," America explained. "Then he went straight to this one, so I think he's hiding something in here. Maybe that knife."

"He probably is," Canada agreed quietly. "I just talked to him and… he was avoiding the question for as long as he could."

"What did everyone else say? Did you find out anything?"

"Alright, so… there are actually two knives missing. No one said they went into the kitchen, but Russia admitted to having had been in there. Thing is though, Prussia was there with him and said that he didn't take anything."

"Can we trust Prussia though?"

"I don't know. He doesn't like Russia, but he was lying with him when I went to talk to him."

America held his chin. "Russia _says_ he wants to help him but…"

"I know," Canada agreed. "It doesn't seem that Prussia wants it."

America tilted his head back and groaned.

"I mean I don't _want_ to start something," America sighed. "And we've already bugged him so much… Is Prussia okay?"

"He's alright," Canada said. "Russia isn't hurting him and he was keeping him warm as he said he would earlier."

"Germany wouldn't like this but… maybe just tonight we'll leave it. We can talk to Russia again in the morning and make sure that if he is going to do anything else to him, he will consult us first."

Canada reluctantly nodded to America's equally unhappy expression.

The light from the room was bleeding into the hall, and at this time Britain appeared at the door. "How long are you two going to be up for?" he asked.

"We're trying to decide if we should look for the knife- _knives_ that are missing tonight or wait until tomorrow when Russia's less pissy," America answered.

Britain limped in so that his voice could be quieter. "I think talking to him is a waste of time. We won't get anything."

America said, "So you think we should spy on him instead? I agree."

"And you said multiple knives are missing now?" Britain went on.

"Two. I think what happened was that someone took one because of Russia, then Russia thought that I did it so he took one for himself."

"He denied it when I asked him," Canada imputed.

Britain presumed, "And I suppose he was too angry to allow you to search his person."

"Yeah."

"Then he will be watched closely," Britain said. "But now that he has settled down, I suggest that we do the same."

They left the room, turning off the light and entering the hall that had only a few, open eyes. France was by Italy and Germany, looking up to them as they came closer. The three dropped down beside him and clustered together, sharing their warmth with each other without a word being said. The end of the hall was silent, and so they drifted off to sleep, but with ears pricked to catch any sounds of major movements.

Throughout the night, their eyes peeled open anytime footsteps were heard. Every time they would all pretend to be asleep while spying on the person carefully, watching where they went. By the time enough hours had passed and they felt as though it was morning, they had only seen people going into the bathroom.

In their minds, that only put more evidence against Russia.

* * *

Russia stretched the moment he began to wake up. There were those few seconds of tension which made relaxing after ever the more glorious. He enjoyed how Belarus and Prussia woke from his movements, shifted, then burrowed back into him once he was still again.

Belarus was one who took advantage of his good side, so it was not as satisfying when she was close to him than when Prussia was. Russia could tell that the air had gotten colder and even he was reluctant to leave the heat of the group. He doubted Prussia did either and that this was why he wanted to stay near him.

Yet Russia could feel a clench of hunger within him thus he knew that soon he would have to get up. He murmured the question to them both, "Who is wanting to have breakfast now?"

Belarus answered affirmatively. Prussia hesitated, and Russia shook him gently to encourage a response from him.

"I'm… fine."

Russia asked him, "Are you warm now?"

"...Yes."

"So you will be cold when I leave?"

"It's alright."

"No, no…" Russia started to sit up. "It is not good, being cold. You must be hungry, but you want to be warm so you don't want to move, right?"

It was true, but Prussia did not want to admit that.

"Here then." Russia pulled off his sweater then held it out to him. "Have this."

Prussia sat up and stared at it. "Why?"

"Because you were behaving. Take it and be warm while I am gone."

He finally did, slipping the loose sweater onto himself and feeling the fresh heat from Russia's skin on his own. It was comfortable, which left him in a confused state as he regarded Russia, now the one left in a T-shirt. The sacrifice for him was so unexpected that instead of gratitude, he was becoming filled with anxiety more than anything else. Prussia racked his brains, trying to figure out if this meant that Russia was going to stop abusing him or if this was just a phase. He was as well trying to determine how to feel about wearing the Russian flag on each shoulder.

"Are you going to follow me, or stay?" Russia asked them.

Belarus got up. Prussia looked around himself, then shook his head.

"Okay. I will bring you something back."

Russia and Belarus left him. Upon opening the door and entering the hall, they were immediately noticed by America, Britain, and Canada. Russia was surprised to see them already standing and on their way to the cafeteria. He hurried up to them with Belarus in tow, to demand, "What are you doing?"

America furrowed his eyebrows. "Umm, getting some breakfast?"

"Let me do that."

"We can serve ourselves just fine, thank you."

Russia tensed. Britain took the chance to ask, partially as a diversion, partially out of curiosity, "Why aren't you wearing your sweater?"

"Ahh, the sweater. Yes, Prussia is wearing it."

"Oh really?" America cocked a brow.

Russia nodded then pushed past them into the cafeteria. They promptly followed him in although Russia burned with irritation to have them there by him. He threw open the fridge door and knelt, sorting through the containers for what he wanted. He dared not shiver as the air of the fridge chilled him even more, not wishing to display any kind of weakness. Russia glared upwards though as America's arm snuck in and pulled something out at random.

"So, what is the plan for today?" Britain asked from somewhere behind him as he glanced at the oven's clock. The time there was _7:40_.

"We should focus on removing the rubble." Russia pulled back from the fridge with the rim of a container hooked by his fingers. "If we remove enough, we should be able to clear a way out."

"The stuff keeps falling down," America pointed out. "I already told you that."

"I know. I mean we should keep going."

"Maybe we should try going up instead," America suggested. "Then if we make it to the next floor, there might be a window we can jump out of to land in the snow. That would be quicker."

Russia had paused as he listened, his face tightening as he was caught deep in thought. He then closed the fridge's door to go up beside America, working to separate portions of food onto different plates as he did.

Canada agreed, "That sounds good. Are there windows on that level though? For some reason there were none at all in the rooms on the ground floor."

In the silence that followed, Russia realized that it was actually a question directed towards him.

"I think so. The room we were having meeting in, there was one."

"This building is so weird," America commented. "Why doesn't the ground floor have windows? Escaping would have otherwise been so much easier."

"Why are you wondering things like that?" Russia's tone turned an edge sharper. "Why would I know the answer?"

"Well, you must have some kind of idea of what this building is for, considering that you booked it."

"I did not book it. I was invited."

"By who?" America asked.

Russia threw his plates into the microwave before America could.

"I do not understand why you are asking questions that do not matter," Russia replied. "Look there, two knives are missing. And think of the fridge you just looked in. How long will that food last us? Will the floor above fall, trapping us further, maybe be causing this level to go down too and crush us? I think you should be thinking about these things, America. Not about what this charity organization does."

"It's just weird…" he said, unsure of how to really respond.

"Da. But sometimes things are weird for no reason."

The microwave beeped once before Russia yanked it open and removed the three small plates one-by-one. He moved around America as he put his stuff in, collecting utensils then glasses. Belarus finally put herself to use and filled the glasses with tap water for him. Once ready, they took everything and exited the kitchen.

"And sometimes people are creepy for no reason," America muttered once Russia was out of earshot. "You guys see it too, right? Something about him is off and it's concerning."

They all agreed as meanwhile, Russia and Belarus came back to the hall and nearly hit Prussia. He jumped in surprise and stiffened from Russia's glare.

"I-I only went to the washroom," he stuttered.

Russia looked beside him to the bathroom's door there, then nodded. He handed Prussia his plate with the utensils balanced on it, then tilted his head to the door at the end of the hall. Prussia understood and headed that way. Russia then beckoned Belarus to do the same, before he set his things down and approached the groggy and injured.

Russia plopped down in front of China. He hardly responded, so Russia patted his face side-to-side between his hands until they were slapped away. Surprise and hurt struck him, but Russia murmured, "What is wrong, China? Do you want me to get you anything?"

China groaned and held his head, dizzier now that Russia had done what he had to him.

" _Chiiiina_. Are you cold? What can I do for you?"

Without being given a response, he moved in to rub his arms.

"I'm fine," China hissed as Russia accidentally pressed the bruises and cuts on his arms. "I can take care of myself."

Russia was gentler after hearing his hiss, taking him into an embrace instead. China tried shifting out of it, prompting Russia to frown.

"Why don't you want to be close to me?" He pouted. "What did I do? Don't you want me to be nice to you?"

"It's too close," China replied. "Don't be upset but, I am not like you and don't enjoy this as much."

"Why not?"

China wiggled out of his grasp. "I just don't. Leave me alone... I told you I would take care of myself."

Russia twitched. He muttered, "You are so rude, when I saved you."

"It was good that you did that, and I will thank you but, you Westerners get way too close to each other and I do not like it!"

Russia exhaled and stood up. He caught sight of others looking at him warily and he grew more irritated. He sighed then stalked back to the kitchen with a plan to reappear with food for the others. He heard the trio still in the kitchen, but once they had heard him coming, they stopped discussing whatever they had been.

"Why are you back?" Britain asked.

"I am going to give out food."

"I can do that," America said. "After all, I already started."

And there were indeed plates already prepared and waiting in line to be warmed up. Russia ignored them and started preparing his own, despite the looks he was given. He shoved some things into the microwave and waited in the awkward silence, before taking three plates at a time with utensils and strolling out of the room.

Russia found the Baltics. They had no choice but to accept as he greeted them and handed them warm breakfasts. Russia glanced at Poland, then said, "You too, _da_? You want some too."

"Sure…" He looked at him strangely. Russia skipped away and brought back something for him and Ukraine, and water for the Baltics, not caring about how he was received. Britain, America, and Canada came out into the hall all carrying meals and frowned to see how many he had already served. They turned their heads as he went past them to the kitchen to get more, then they hastened to get back and make more plates themselves. They left the dishes intended for them to the side, then served France, Germany, Japan, and Italy before hurrying back.

"I said I can do it," America stressed once he made it back into the kitchen.

"But I want to," Russia insisted.

They fought for control of the microwave, each pushing the other aside when they could to get what they had prepared in first. They were not too aggressive about this, neither one of them really wanting to provoke the other over something like this. In the end, America was left frustrated when Russia strode out and gave food to Poland, China, Cuba, and Hungary.

America came out, gave him a look, then served Austria in front of him. He could see how Russia bristled and he relished it, knowing that he had beaten him to him. Russia bared his teeth then swept away to give out water to those he had served but did not have any yet. Once done, Russia stalked back to the Baltics and Ukraine and sat before them, all while under watchful eyes.

He automatically started to fret over them like he had with China, except they were less sure about how to deal with him than China had been.

"Did you sleep well here, against the wall?" he asked them.

Estonia stiffened when Russia touched the back of his hand, checking its temperature.

"It was… alright," Lithuania murmured.

"It is a lot warmer when lots of us are together," Russia explained. "I think you should sleep with us next time. It is cozier and good to stretch out on the floor."

"Why do we have to be there, far away from the others?" Estonia inquired.

"That room is just the furthest from the cold and still close to the washroom," Russia replied mildly. "But it doesn't have to be far from the others. They can join us if they want to, but if they don't, it is their fault that they are distant."

The Baltics and Poland looked to each other. Russia smiled and turned to sit against the wall beside Estonia, as though he was one of them.

"It would be so nice," Russia continued. "Whoever wants it, I will keep you very warm. I can take care of you, your injuries, your needs… and I will protect you from whoever has the knife. Also, Belarus and Prussia are there and they had a good night's sleep with me."

More looks to each other. The shared memory of seeing Prussia wearing Russia's sweater when he had made an appearance in the hall arose, giving them proof that Prussia had been taken care of. Yet then the Baltics remembered how Russia had frightened them in the kitchen and thus were conflicted.

"I care about you a lot," Russia murmured. "I am trying to be nice because I want to be your friend… Why are you always afraid? Let me show you that it is safe. After all, if I had wanted to hurt you, I could have left you in the cold and just said that I couldn't find you in the snow."

That was a valid point. Russia pressed into Estonia's side, setting his cheek against his shoulder and concluding, "So, come with me. I only want to treat you nicely."

Estonia felt the coldness of Russia's arm and considered what he had given up for Prussia's sake. He kept silent though as he kept thinking that this was Russia saying these things and therefore it could all be a lie.

"You can rest for the rest of the day," Russia whispered when he got no answer. "In there. I will do the working for you and you can sleep altogether if you want. Very cozy. Then I will bring you lunch…"

Estonia locked eyes with Latvia. Lithuania and Poland considered each other before Lithuania said, "So you won't be there."

"Sometimes, and then at night. I can treat your wounds too while you recover. I can bring paper towel and soap to wash them."

"But why?" Poland asked. "What's in it for you?"

"It makes me happy when you let me do these things," he replied. "Friendly things… because I would really want to make up for things and have friends."

Russia carefully held Estonia and enjoyed the warmth filtering back into his arms.

"And of course, I will be unhappy if you are refusing," Russia sighed. "Because why would you be so mean, when I am not doing anything wrong?"

"So you want us to give you a chance?" Estonia clarified.

Russia hummed in affirmation.

"W-we could…" Latvia spoke up. "Because if you do something bad, we can just leave..."

"Ah, right. You can," Russia answered him. "But I won't hurt you. I don't want to do that to you."

"Then… I guess it can't hurt to try it," Estonia exhaled.

Russia smirked. "And you heard that too, right, Ukraine?"

She was beside them and Russia had known that she had been eavesdropping the entire time.

"Will you give me a chance?" he continued. "No more _talking_. Just… nice things. Good food, hugs, and friendship."

He pulled himself off Estonia to make eye contact with her. Ukraine looked over his placid face, one freshly contented after having had been close to someone who had not struggled. Russia had been calmed in just the short time of being with someone else. She considered that perhaps this route was the best to keep him tame and prevent him from posing a danger to everyone else.

 _Belarus was not hurt. Not even Prussia was_ , she thought. _And… maybe this is the way to bring him happiness… It could save us all._

"Okay…" .

Now she was the one hugged. Ukraine was snuggled before being helped up into a standing position. He gathered her things for her as the Baltics and Poland slowly stood up. America gazed on in shock as they all trailed Russia to the room at the end of the hall with their breakfasts.

"I don't believe it!" America protested. "How can they trust him? Russia's never going to be nice to them! Give him few minutes, and one of them is going to be mistreated!"

"They didn't stop to think that he had the knives, did they?" Britain muttered.

"Well…" France joined into the discussion. "There is the possibility that they were more willing because one of them had a knife on them."

They went quiet as they realized the high likelihood of this.

America then huffed, "But what he was saying is just ridiculous. I think he was talking so loud just so that we would hear it, although it was all complete bullshit. Friends? Russia doesn't know how to make them or treat them. He only knows how to capture and possess, because that is what he _does_. With violence and lies, every time."


	8. Семья- Family

**Read the author's note at the end before reviewing.**

* * *

Russia was happy.

The room was full of people, and their shuffling, breathing, and talking were wonderful little sounds of life that soothed his heart. He forgot about the shrieks of storms that used to be his company, when they could not compare to this in the slightest. Like a moth to a light, Russia drifted toward the heat and beating hearts to listen to the quiet voices.

He took his meal with him and hovered by the Baltics, smiling and appreciating every second in their presence. It was amazing that they, of all people, had decided to give him a chance. Granted, they did not have to go far or yell loud to have America rescuing them, but just the agreement had mollified Russia. It had been a yes, which mattered even if they were carrying the weapon.

He would search them eventually anyway, just in case. Not now though, when they were in such a sensitive atmosphere. For now he would have to prove that his promises of providing aid had not been lies. Russia had to cater to their needs and he intended to check their injuries now that it was morning.

The wounds of theirs that were exposed were without bandages but scabbed over. They had been cleaned before of dirt and other particles, but Russia could see some red glows of infection. It was there on his own knuckles as well, hammering his flesh with continued pain.

Poland jolted when Russia held his arm up without a warning and lifted the sleeve, peering into the hole to check the bumpy landscape of abrasions. He then dropped it and went on, causing people to freeze while he took the time to check over each one of them briefly. They were concerned about what he was doing, until Russia eventually announced his intentions.

"I will take all the dishes back," he said, "then bring you some things for the cleaning of your injuries."

Russia began collecting, but it was apparent that it would take many trips to carry everything to the kitchen. He asked for assistance in a tone he made sure to be mild, and Lithuania gave himself up for the task.

"Very nice of you, Lithuania," Russia cooed. "That makes me happy."

Lithuania was only trying to do what was decent, but also had felt an obligation simply because it was Russia who had asked. Russia was however, unaware, smiling and leading Lithuania out through the hall in the short stretch from the room to the kitchen. They slipped into the cafeteria, caught by America's sharp gaze, who immediately complained to his cohorts once Russia was out of earshot.

"There you go," America muttered. "Poor Lithuania's been made his servant again."

America strode after them, catching up to Russia in the kitchen.

"Hey, Lithuania should be resting!" he barked. "You shouldn't be making him follow you around like that."

"Oh but, he volunteered to do that. Didn't you, Lithuania?"

Lithuania looked to America and nodded. "I did, but it's alright. I'll be lying down right after."

"Yes, yes." Russia closed his eyes and nodded with much more vigor. "I will take good care of him."

They dropped off everything into the sink and turned to head back to the room. Before having had exited from the kitchen however, Russia threw out, "Maybe you could wash the dishes then, America? You seem so eager to help out."

America shot a glare at his back. "Don't you tell me what to do."

Russia had not stopped walking away, but in less than a minute he was back to find America still standing there.

"If you aren't going to be helping, then why are you here?" Russia hummed. "Is it that you want to be watching me?"

"You do give me enough reason to keep an eye on you," America muttered. "I wouldn't let you come back into this kitchen unattended, when there are more knives to be taken."

"You wouldn't like it if I treated you the same."

Russia placed the dishes into the sink and once Lithuania had done the same, it was rather full. America looked over it, conflicted as he wanted to be helpful yet not after Russia had told him to wash them. It all infuriated him; he felt that Russia was provoking him on purpose, in order to embarrass him if he overreacted in public.

So America puffed his chest and strode up to the sink in a meaningful manner, claiming, "Unlike you, I do not force injured people to do chores, so I will do these to be helpful _and_ make sure you don't crawl back into the kitchen to commit theft."

"The theft?" Russia scoffed. "These knives are more mine than they are yours."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"This building was given to me to be taken care of."

America laughed, "Well, you've done a shit job of that!"

Russia's eyebrows lowered. "Are you saying that a snowstorm was _my_ fault?"

America turned his head. "Didn't you say before that it was ice?"

"It wasn't just ice. Remember how it started snowing?"

"Dude, not that much snow could've fallen in like, an hour!"

Lithuania, uncomfortable as the voices were sharpening and rising in volume, cut in. "Why are we arguing about this?" he asked softly. "There is no point blaming people… We shouldn't be doing fights while we are trapped here with each other."

Russia smiled at Lithuania and gazed upon him with fondness. Without starting up another discussion, Russia retrieved two large bowls from a cupboard and squirted soap into one of them. He pushed past America and took over the sink, filling up both bowls with water then setting them down. America watched with narrowed eyes as Russia then headed directly to a drawer, opening it to reveal some folded tea towels.

America uttered, "How do you know exactly where everything is?"

"Poor America…" Russia exhaled. "I wonder why you want to fight me so much? Is it because you are bored? I wish it wasn't this way."

Russia took out three towels then closed the drawer with his hip. He slung them over his shoulder then went and took the prepared bowls. He felt eyes on him the entire way as he departed, but he did not mind it so much now that he was not coming back. Russia pushed the broken door to his room open, let Lithuania in, then closed it with a sense of relief that he would be separated from America for a while.

"Okay," Russia sighed, sitting himself down with all his materials. "Who is first?"

Everyone hesitated. Russia frowned, then beckoned the closest, Ukraine, to him.

"Come, I will not hurt you. Trust me."

Ukraine edged forward then sat down in front of him. Immediately, he took one of the tea towels and dipped it into the soapy water before wringing it.

"Show me where you are hurt," he murmured. "I will be gentle."

She rolled up her sleeves and showed her scrapes and bruises to him. Ukraine went rigid as he brought the tea towel close to her, but when it touched down carefully, she relaxed. Russia quietly and smoothly dragged the towel over her exposed skin before setting it back into the bowl of soapy water. He used another towel for rinsing, but dipping his hands into the water already caused Russia's hands to start changing colour.

"The water's very cold," Ukraine whispered with a shiver.

"It will be alright," he murmured back. "Even with cold water, it will clean."

Russia dried her off then brought his own bare arms closer to his sides in an attempt to control his shivering. Teeth nearly chattering, he continued, "Are you sure you don't want to wash anything else? It would be bad if you left any to be getting infected."

"No… it's fine."

"Let me at least clean your face."

Russia brought up the drenched, soapy towel and squeezed the fat drops out from it. He leaned forward and she closed her eyes. Russia was careful around them as he cleaned every cut and once finished there, her headband was plucked and set down. Russia ran the towel with only water over her hair, fixing and combing it with his fingers then repeating the process until it was silky.

He dried her hair a bit and inquired again, "Are you sure? Your body must have many cuts. It is important to clean them…"

Ukraine self-consciously clutched at the ends of her shirt and whispered, "No… Not in front of everybody."

"Let's be mature." Russia glanced up to everyone else standing around in the room. "No one should think bad things about an injured person."

"I don't want to," she repeated.

"I won't let anyone think anything." He glared now, suspicion sharpening his gaze. "I will be angry if they do."

Lithuania said, "We can look away if it makes you feel better."

Ukraine hesitated. Russia replied, "Then do it. I will take care of her."

They all turned their backs, save for Belarus who knew that she was not a problem. The others were left to only hear the rustle of the clothes being removed, the sound of water cascading heavily into the bowl, then eventually the sound of clothes again as another article was removed.

"See?" Russia was heard whispering to her. "Now you can heal properly."

Belarus watched only Russia's expression, finding genuine concern and concentration there as he worked. Once Ukraine had redressed, Russia revealed that it was fine for everyone to turn back around. They did so, but froze when Russia asked, "And next?"

The very thought of undressing for Russia struck each of them with embarrassment and disturbance, and Russia could tell. He sighed, "It is okay, we are family here. It does not matter."

While they took the time to look at each other, Russia chirped, "Estonia, why don't you come here?"

Estonia looked to his sides, as though escape was expected to be found there, then he approached slowly and sat down cross-legged before him. Russia would have liked to have dragged his glasses off with his palms, but they were missing. Instead, he only began washing his face and hair immediately without hindrance, before asking him to remove his shirt and pants.

Estonia was not used to such a request and could only complete it after being sure that there was no lascivious shine in Russia's eyes. From what Estonia knew about Russia, he could tell that he was in a serious mood and wanted only to complete his promised duty to the fullest. Estonia kept his eyes shut but did not expect pain to befall him this time. The feeling of the towel, although cold, was rather comforting. No further injury was brought upon his battered flesh, and it was absolutely refreshing to be washed-up and smelling of apples.

The cold got to him near the end and he started to tremble, but Russia was not angered by it. He had caught sight of the tiny, relieved smile on Estonia's face as he was handled gently instead of with cruelty. Russia did not believe that Estonia was aware of his own smile, but joy nevertheless let Russia's heart pick up, thus he smiled too.

Russia dried the water off him then whispered, "You are done now. Thank you."

Seeing Estonia treated well gave the others more confidence. The rest came up to Russia one-by-one with less hesitation each time, which pleased him ever the more. He began donating hugs to them after each treatment to accompany his words of gratitude, for quite content was he that they were choosing to trust him.

When the towel for drying became too wet, he chirped merrily, "I think I need another towel. I will be back!"

Russia slipped out into the hall, expecting to be confronted by America for heading in the direction of the kitchen. To his surprise, he, along with Britain, Canada, and France, were not present in the hall. He went ahead and travelled through the cafeteria then into the empty kitchen, happy to not be bothered again so soon by any of them.

The drawer slid open and two more towels were slung over his shoulder. Russia tapped it closed again then spun around, noticing the empty sink and the pile of drying dishes, before putting his attention onto the fridge. The door to it was thrown open and Russia reached in to remove a water bottle. Russia cast a glance at the doorway, made sure it was empty, before he went to the cupboards.

An opaque mug was chosen. Russia easily untwisted the cap of the full bottle, one that had been opened before, and poured it in. He filled it to the rim and put the rest back into the fridge, hiding it in the back. After this, he added a few pinches of sugar before he took hold of the mug and set out. Just before he left however, he eyed up the pile of mints and gum at the corner of the counter against the backsplash. A packet of gum was swiped and stuffed into his pocket before he finally departed.

He strode out swiftly and in doing so, almost crashed into Austria and Hungary before the counter of the cafeteria. Russia halted and blinked as Austria demanded, "What were you doing in there?"

Russia countered, " _Nyet_ , what is it _you_ are doing here?"

"We were told to watch out for you," Austria replied steadily, "because we heard you took a knife so everyone has to make sure you don't do it again."

Russia frowned. "And you were just told this, I think, because America left to go upstairs."

"Yes."

"I am unhappy that America keeps lying about me to everyone to make me look bad. But I did not do that. Prussia will tell you the same."

They were flabbergasted. Hungary echoed, " _Prussia_?"

" _Da_. You can ask him. He is in the back room with everyone else I am taking care of. Do you want to go now? I am also washing everyone's wounds and I can do the same for you too."

Both knew that Prussia hated Russia. If he would defend Russia despite that, then it would seem that America had indeed lied.

"We'll see him," Austria decided. Hungary agreed with a few nods.

"Ah, good." He smiled. "Come with me…"

And so they followed Russia. In the medium-sized room they had been brought to, both were surprised to see the seven already here, some with wet hair and others without. The bowls and towels were glimpsed before all attention was set onto Prussia. Russia allowed them to go to where he sat in the corner to question him, unhappy that they had not simply believed him yet satisfied that they were about to be astounded.

The mug was set onto the table before he announced, "Here, Poland. It is your turn."

Just glancing at his clothes, he would not have guessed it, but there were many scratches across Poland's chest along his ribs. He discovered them all as he worked and murmured to him, "This is not good at all."

Poland did not answer verbally, but there were words in the glare he fixed Russia's face with. Russia met it when he looked up to wash his face, and he stared back for a few moments, recognizing the accusation in his gaze. Poland closed his eyes only when Russia continued his work and the towel was brought close to them. But once he had moved on, treating his hair, Poland reopened his eyes.

Russia brushed his hair with his fingers and ignored his suspicious glare, only growing content when Poland eventually gave in and relaxed under his touch.

"Thank you," Russia told him in the end. "We are done here."

He saw that Hungary and Austria were still talking to Prussia. Belarus came up to Russia and claimed her turn as he listened to them attentively.

"How bad are you hurt?" Hungary had asked him.

Russia smiled slightly when Prussia replied, "Just… everywhere. I mean, I don't have cuts but I must have been crushed or something because all my insides are killing me. My leg, my chest… and I banged my head good too."

Belarus stared at Russia. He could tell that she was now ruminating on something, so he whispered, "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"You can't think so hard about nothing. What is the problem?"

"It isn't anything important."

"You aren't hiding something from me, are you? I want you to be honest with me. Everyone should be."

"No."

Russia furrowed his brows. "We will talk later."

Once he was done with her, he addressed those in the corner who had their backs to him.

"Austria! Hungary!" he called. "Come over here now to be cleansed!"

They looked back before getting up and going to him. Hungary set herself down in front of him first, and Russia washed her face and hair to get her adjusted, before saying, "Can you take off your shirt now?"

Austria's shoulders instantly squeezed in and he cried, " _What_?"

Russia cast an irritated gaze his way. "Everyone is doing it so all their wounds can be cleaned. It is bad to miss them."

Austria was surprised to see her now also giving him a vexed look.

"Why are you making it such a big deal?" Hungary muttered.

He clenched his fists. "So you are going to do this for Russia?"

"Don't be like that. At least listen to what he is trying to say."

She pulled off her shirt and Austria's expression changed from outrage to a beseeching look.

"You will go next," Russia assured him. "It is okay. Everyone is doing this."

Austria stiffened when Russia ran the soapy towel all the way down her arm. Hungary was watching Russia, but he could see that as the more he worked, the less bothered she became by it.

"See?" Hungary later told Austria. "We were right to come here. He isn't doing anything wrong. America was just trying to get us to mistrust him."

Austria hesitated. He remembered Prussia's words, but it was hard to trust Russia so readily. When Hungary took off her pants, he became petrified and did not how to react. Anger flared inside him, for Russia, but he felt powerless when Hungary did not share his feelings. No one else in the room seemed to care anymore as well since they had all been treated equally by him.

Austria was alone with his opinions and very soon, Russia was trying to beckon him over. Hungary, clothed again, was giving him a look that compelled him to give in and come to Russia.

"Don't worry," Russia said. "I won't hurt you. I have been gentle to everyone."

He had been concerned about that, but the greatest problem was that he did not want to expose himself for Russia. Even if he agreed that Russia was not sexualizing them, he could not bring himself to do it. Russia washed his face and took the time to free his hair of dirt and straighten it. Yet his next request was denied, and Austria told him, "No… thank you."

Russia tried to say again, "But what about-"

"Maybe just the arms. But no more."

"Austria."

"I don't want to," Austria replied. "I am not comfortable in front of you."

Russia pulled the corner of his lips to the side. "Fine then," he uttered. "I hope you come back when your injuries are hurting you."

Austria widened his eyes at that comment, but by then Russia was already pulling up his sleeves to the elbow. He washed them quickly, not as slowly and carefully as he had with the others. Austria shifted at the wrong time and Russia moved against a cut, pulling a scab. It ripped off and Austria inhaled sharply. A stream of blood trickled out but Russia grabbed a dry towel to put the corner against it.

"Why did you do that?" Russia muttered. "You just need to trust me but you don't want to. You are refusing on purpose."

Austria pulled away, pressing his hand over the hole that immediately oozed blood once exposed.

"It's the same every time," Austria said. "You act innocent, but then you have something else in mind. Again and again, you've hurt people… these people! I don't understand why they are here with you."

Russia stood up. "You just talked to Prussia. You don't believe him?"

Austria wavered. "I do…" He paused. "But I think he is… misguided. By you. You haven't been trustworthy in the past and due to current world events, I don't think you are now."

Hungary hesitated, before she approached Austria and spoke in a soft tone.

"Ignore the past and think about now," she advised. "If he wants to help, maybe we should let him. What is the point in keeping Russia as an enemy forever? I'm not saying you have to like him, but if it is possible to work with him when he offers, then why not?"

Russia nodded candidly and continued, "I am trying to change. Friendship is what I want, because I am also sick of this fighting. It is why I saved you, made you food, stopped your bleeding, and am now trying to clean your wounds. Why Prussia has my sweater and why I am going to try to dig us out today."

Austria went quiet. Russia came forward and eased him back down into a sitting position without dispute. He held the towel against the bleeding spot and they sat together for a while in the silence. Russia checked it after a few minutes and found it had clotted, then went and washed Austria's ensanguined hand.

Russia then took a gentle hold of the bottom of his shirt. Austria sighed but did not protest when Russia started to lift it up. He instead took over and finished it off himself, dropping his formal top to the side. In less than a second, Russia was running the soapy cloth over the lacerations on his chest and breathing, "Poor you… But it is good that we are doing this. It is looking red here already."

He peered closer and stopped wiping. Russia carefully used his finger tip to roll a jagged, black piece of an unknown something out of a cut before showing it to Austria. He hummed, "I guess you did not know how bad you were hurt before we started looking at you."

Hungary was watching over Austria contentedly as he held still and let Russia pick out the little black pieces from his cuts. Austria looked at the soft locks of Russia's hair as he murmured, "It looks like it came from a chair."

Russia emitted a sorry exhale. Once he had taken everything out, he soothed the towel over the cuts. Dots of blood appeared, which Russia dabbed dry after rinsing them. He went around to his back and when finished, and whispered there, "And your pants, now…"

Austria put on his shirt first. It made him feel better when he drew off his dress pants. He clutched the shirt and pulled it down enough as Russia moved back around, but he never threw his gaze that way. When all was said and done, Austria swiftly redressed himself and stood up as though to leave.

"You don't have to go!" Russia hopped up to his feet. "I am going upstairs to work, so why not stay here and rest with everyone? It is warmer when we are together."

Austria fixed his collar and looked to Hungary. She was nodding at him, so he dropped his shoulders and exhaled, "It would be fine, I suppose."

" _Otlichno_! I am happy you are here, friend Austria."

Russia dragged him into an embrace. Austria squirmed, turning his head to the side and squeezing his eyes shut. When Russia decided to release him, he headed straight over to Prussia.

"As for you, Prussia..." He knelt down and put a benign tone into his voice. "Could I have my sweater when I deal with the snow? You can cuddle with the others to stay warm while I am gone. I can give it back after."

Prussia blinked, taking in the request as quickly as he could before fulfilling it.

"S-sure."

He hurried to remove it and hand it to him. Russia slipped into it and promptly sighed as the warmth of Prussia now heated his frozen skin. He got back up, turned and grabbed the mug, then returned. He held it out to Prussia and murmured, "I got you something some cool water with sugar in it. It will taste really nice."

Russia cupped the side of his head so the others could not see the face of shock that overtook Prussia. The mug was slipped into his petrified hands and his rosy eyes flashed down to the water in it. Russia's thumb stroked his cheek, taken as a hint that he was supposed to drink this in front of him. There was no choice but to obey, so he lifted it to his lips and finished it in three large gulps.

"How was it?" Russia asked.

"Sweet."

"So you liked it?"

Prussia nodded. Russia smiled and took the mug away to set it back on the table. He began to leave then, but not before glancing at Belarus then at the desk. She understood that there was a meaning to this.

 _Guard the items._

He took the towels and bowls then left. A minute later, she walked behind the desk and sat down, putting her back against the drawers so that none could be opened.

* * *

In the bathroom, Russia washed himself behind a locked door so that no one would see his own injuries. There were hardly any cuts, which was good when he wanted to share his sweater, but many large bruises. Colourful tender spots- _weak_ spots, he wanted to hide.

By now the water was not as good, so he decided that when he would invite more to join him, he would have to switch it for fresh partway through. Nothing to be done now though, so Russia rubbed off the cold water then took everything into the kitchen. All bowls were dropped off into the sink and towels were spread out to dry, then he hurried out.

The next on the agenda was the recruitment of Cuba, someone he knew to not be so injured. Russia did not hesitate to plop down in front of him and say, "Hello, my friend. You are tired still? I thought you weren't hurt so much. Maybe you should put yourself to some use!"

Cuba had been resting, but now he sat up and fixed his posture.

"Sure," he answered. "What do can I do?"

"We are going to go upstairs and do some of the digging."

"Alright." He got up and stretched. "No problem."

Russia looked around them. The only ones left here in the hall were China, alone, and the cluster comprising Germany, Italy, and Japan. All were clearly injured, so he was unsure if he could recruit them, but he had not yet washed China so he did not know yet how bad his injuries really were.

"Ah, China. I was wondering something before." Russia turned and addressed him. He wanted to go close when he talked, but he remembered how China had been hard to talk to when he was busy pushing him away. He kept his distance now.

China creaked open his eyes. "What is it?"

"Where are you hurting? Are you hurt badly?"

The answer from before had been a vague _I'm fine_. Now though, with the space he needed, China replied, "All over... I have a lot of cuts and my lower back is just bad."

"Okay, then you cannot help right now," Russia said. "You have to take care of yourself first. That is fine. But, if you are wanting, I will clean your cuts later. I did it for everyone else already. You are also welcome to come join us in the room back there. It is warmer when we are together like a family, _da_?"

"I don't know…"

"Think about it then. I'll be back in a few hours."

Russia and Cuba went down the hall. Russia paused to tell the trio, "You three are welcome too. So many are already there, so you might as well join us."

Without an answer, they walked on and went up the stairs. Right at the top, they immediately found America hard at work with Britain and France doing the best they could with their injuries. Snow littered the stairwell, having had fallen down, but the rubble they had removed was not here.

"Where are you putting everything?" Russia inquired as the headed up.

America spun around. "Oh, hey. Yeah… we're putting that into the rooms out of the way."

Russia went to the top so that he could look down the hall of the ground floor. There was no one there.

"America, where is your brother?"

"Canada?" America smirked. "You mean you _didn't_ see him around?"

Russia went rigid, his jaw tightening.

America continued, "I mean, sometimes people don't notice him, but I thought you were one who could. I guess he is just very good at being quiet and staying unseen."

"You sent him to spy on me." Russia's face scrunched up in irritation. "Why?"

"Because you never gave us the knife back."

"I did not take one. I said this."

"Exactly." America shrugged. "You _said_ this, but you lie a lot."

"And so do you. Where is your knife? Maybe I should also be sending people to spy on you."

"That would be a bad idea," America warned him lowly. "Don't be starting things, Commie."

"It would seem that _you_ were the ones starting the thing," Russia snipped back.

Cuba was quiet, but he tapped Russia's arm with a finger. Russia glanced to him, then to where he was looking. Canada was seen sliding up the stairs like a spectre, smooth, slow, and silent. He halted when Russia glared and bristled.

"Where were you hiding, Canada?" Russia demanded.

"He ain't gonna tell you that!" America interjected. "Because we're not going to stop until you return _both_ knives!"

"You stole one!" Russia threw back.

"Aha! So you did take the other one!"

"I did not say that," Russia hissed. "I think someone else took the other, maybe Canada. Maybe it is that you are both trying to make me look bad in front of the others, like the usual!"

"Bullshit!" America cried. "You are such a liar, you!"

Canada crept up, avoiding Russia and sneaking around to America's backside. Russia pulled back his lips, exposing his teeth as he snarled, "I have people who are supporting me on this, many on my side are in my room! You are just jealous and upset because you don't have my power. So much for the working together... I will be the one in charge now."

"Oh yeah?" America nodded once to the end of the hall. "You think digging that way is going to work? It won't! My way is the right way and everyone is going to see that!"

Russia swept away and took Cuba with him. "You will be eating those words," he muttered in his departure. "You will come help us when you realize that I am right..."

"Your plan is illogical! Mine at least makes sense!" America hurled back, unsatisfied until he had the last word.

To Cuba, Russia vented, "What is he going to think then, if he causes an avalanche that blocks that stairwell? Stupid America. He isn't thinking about everyone else."

"I agree with you," Cuba said quietly. "His idea isn't safe."

They both put themselves to the task, clawing at the snow with their bare hands until objects were found. Together they yanked out a piece of the ceiling and immediately snow dropped down to replace the gap. Russia was not disheartened by this. He took the piece by himself and stuffed it into a room before returning. By then Cuba had another piece, which he passed off to him.

When Russia was tired of hurrying back and forth, they switched. He shoved his scraped hands into the snow again and again until they were numb. And even after they had numbed, he worked, until they started to burn from an unbearable sting. Russia stepped back and crammed his hands into his pockets.

"We can switch again," Cuba offered.

"No, no… too soon," Russia replied. "I can do it."

After all, he saw how America was doing most of the work in the snow. Russia was a winter country and did not want to appear weak compared to him, thus he walked past Cuba and went back to work.

"I can't let him beat me," Russia muttered.

"Why is it a competition?" Cuba asked.

"Because he wants to win and I don't want him to. Otherwise, he will be making a big deal about it."

"Ah. That's true."

Cuba picked up the pace for Russia. He did not ask again to switch, although he saw how America's group alternated even though Britain and France were slower. Russia was determined to go on for longer than them, digging through snow until he had difficulty bending his fingers. His skin tore and went red, but he kept going until his hands could no longer move. Even then though, he pawed it with his frozen, hooked hands.

Russia quaked. To Cuba's relief, he finally backed off and jammed his hands into his armpits.

"I am very strong," Russia stated. "I am good worker."

There was a look of unease on his face, but Cuba agreed, "Yeah... you are."

"You have to be too." Russia looked into his eyes. "This would be easier with more people, but now we have to work extra hard to meet expectations."

"Expectations? Whose?"

"Mine. I expect to succeed in a faster time than America, so we have to."

Cuba said, "But you don't have to hurt yourself. It's alright if you take some time because I'm sure America's going to mess up anyway."

"Hmm…"

They switched roles. Cuba could not work as long as Russia could, but Russia did not reprimand him when they soon switched again. Once more, Russia drove himself to extreme lengths that unsettled Cuba, but that was soon established to be the norm. For hours they worked like this, with only few breaks where both sat and warmed their own hands. Glares from Russia were shot down the hall, but the time when America approached, he visibly bristled.

"Don't look at me like that, dude," America huffed. "Not my fault you're having a rough time."

And with that, he turned suddenly and pushed into the bathroom. Cuba was puzzled when Russia's eyes popped and he gasped as the door swung closed. He had no idea what was wrong, until a cry came from within the bathroom. Russia stood up just as the door was thrown back open and America took a stance in the doorway.

"What the _hell_ is that?" America held the door open with one flat hand and pointed aggressively into the bathroom with the other.

"Is what?" Russia muttered.

"You shit! Are you telling me you _didn't_ bust that mirror?"

"Oh but, America, why would I have done that?"

"I don't know! You tell me!"

Russia shot back, "That is the _girl's_ bathroom. I know better than to go in there, unlike you."

"When and why did you do that?" America hissed. "What, did you want some glass shards to add to your knife collection? Huh?"

As the voices rose in volume and in aggression, the others came as fast as they could. Canada was there in almost an instant, but Britain and France lagged behind.

"Let's calm down," Canada murmured, looking at America then Russia, to address him, "Why are you collecting glass?"

Russia growled, "I am not. Stop accusing me of everything."

"There is nothing wrong with the room!" America exclaimed. "It's like with that one door- the collapse didn't damage it, but he did!"

"Did you ever consider that someone else is causing these problems?" Russia retorted. "You have no proof that it was me, yet you believe it."

"No one else would do these things!"

"You don't think anyone would want to be blaming me?" Russia shot back. "I think Ukraine did this. To make me look bad. I do remember her going to the bathroom during break time."

Britain replied, "It was highly unlikely that it was her…"

"Ask her." Russia rubbed his hands together, seeking warmth. "She will tell you. I will even come with you."

Canada started, "Come now, we don't-"

"Fine!" America threw up his hands. "She's in that corner, isn't she? Go on then. Show me what you're hiding in that room of yours."

Russia paused. Somehow, those words ripped away his anger and he blinked rapidly a few times before murmuring, "So you want to see my room… If you like it, you are welcome to join us."

America turned his head and gave him a strange side glance.

"Dude. I would never join you. No one is safe being that close."

The anger returned. Russia twitched and shot him a piercing glare of ice, then muttered, "Let's be going then."

Russia was not allowed to lead the way. America pushed ahead and the rest of his group took the initiative to take up the back, sandwiching Russia and Cuba between them. It infuriated Russia further, for he knew that he was being watched in case he were to draw out a knife. Cuba could sense Russia's feelings but did not know what to feel regarding them. He knew Russia had done bad things, and yet Russia had been doing his best to be friendly so he remained silent.

China was startled to see everyone striding down the hall, tensed and sharp-eyed. He shifted and waited for an explanation, but none was given. Germany and Japan lifted their heads while Italy watched feet thumping by to a serious beat from his lying position on Germany's quad. All wondered what had happened, but then they saw how the back group regarded Russia with bile.

Once reaching the door to the room, America burst through it and startled all inside.

"Ukraine!"

Everyone jumped and went wide-eyed. America stalked in and Russia crept in after him, muscles stiff and respiration deep.

"A-America…" Ukraine gulped, nervous by his tone. "What is it?"

Seeing her panic, America tried to mellow his temper so she would know it was not her he was mad at.

"Did Russia break a mirror in the women's restroom upstairs?"

Before she had a chance to reply, Russia uttered, "She knows I did not do it. Why would I, Ukraine? But I think you did it. It was only you, wasn't it?"

Her eyes flashed between the faces of the large group standing before her. Ukraine stood up on shivering legs and tried to answer, but then her throat clogged up.

"Say if it was him," America murmured. "I will protect you."

But Ukraine was not sure that he could. There were so many times when he was not around, too many times where Russia could be free to punish her.

"They think I broke it to steal the glass shards," Russia told her. "It is unfair. I did no such of a thing."

Ukraine choked, "I-it…"

America's group and Russia leaned it, anxious for the answer.

"Russia... did not do it."

Russia straightened his back and smiled. The entirety of America's group automatically inhaled, stunned by what had been said.

"If it wasn't him..." France said, "then who did it?"

"Ukraine did," Russia stated. "She was just very upset to see me again, so she broke something."

Britain started to interrupt, "Now that's just-"

But Ukraine had started to nod to what Russia was saying. The group fell silent and Russia's smile broadened.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Everyone else in the room kept out of the conversation, confused as to what was going on and why America was so quick to snap back, "No way she did that! Ukraine isn't like that!"

"No?" Russia challenged. "And how would you know? Is she _your_ sister?"

"It had to be you…" America shook his head, refusing to believe the response. "She has to be lying! What did you threaten her with?"

"Nothing…" Ukraine murmured, nervous as America poised himself aggressively in front of Russia. "I… There was so much emotion in me. I didn't want to come but my boss told me to then… I was angry by how nice Russia was being as though nothing wrong was going on between us. So when I was alone, looking at the mirror and seeing resemblance to him there and remembering we were siblings I just… I'm sorry. "

A look of anguish overtook Russia's face and America was astonished. His fury flashed away as he thought, _Wait… So it wasn't him? But…_

"Ukraine..." the name released by Russia trembled, a pained whimpered. "You felt this way?"

Her story had done enough to throw off America's group, but it had been too easily spun. Russia was sure that there was much truth to her words and the last sentence jammed a blade into his gut. He faltered from the wound, leaning forward and losing his strong posture.

"I did…" she replied quietly. "I was upset about how you treated me, although we are…"

Russia's chest jolted. He took two steps towards her, one back. He breathed, "But you… betrayed me… Don't you love me? Why don't you… anymore?"

America was surprisingly, speechless as he watched the show. He was dumbfounded by the stress escaping Russia, his sorrow, his regret, his anger, and his fear.

"Don't you remember what happened decades ago?" Ukraine asked. "My people haven't forgotten…"

Russia's heart squirmed. He had not expected this conversation to fly upon them, especially in front of others. He wanted it to stop but he could not do anything now. He also did not want to silence her forcefully when it would only sour their relationship further.

"I… I didn't know…" Russia took another step back. "I couldn't control myself then because I… Don't you know how I suffered too? Me too… I was punished. I h-had to be…"

All in the room were startled by Russia's shaking as he grew more distressed. America looked on his awe as Russia stepped forward again then back, a tango as he was bunted between thoughts and desires. Ukraine leaned back over the desk when he approached, staring straight at his face with concern coloured on hers.

"But I told you yesterday that it's over," Russia whined. "It was long ago and I… am different..."

Now America spoke, uttering, "But are you really?"

Russia moved closed to Ukraine. "Yes, yes… twenty years and I… I know I want to be strong but by working with everyone…"

Ukraine inhaled when Russia's arms lifted and his hands found her back. It was the beginning of a hug, but then she turned her head to the side and the hint of a grimace was caught on her face. Russia shot backwards, eyes wide and shining as he cried, "Why don't you understand? What do you want me to do? Say? You won't ever try getting it without calling for help to beat me even lower!"

Russia stumbled back many steps, gasping, "You stopped loving me… or maybe you never did…! That would not be surprising because no one does. Even if I love you all so much, no one will give it back to me. No one ever did…"

The confusion in America spiked as Russia walked back with his words until he found the door. He opened it then slipped out into the hall, shutting it swiftly and leaving everyone stunned.

"What on earth was that all about?" Britain exclaimed.

America rushed to the door. He started to call out, "Where are you-"

But then upon examination of the hall, Russia was revealed not to be in sight. America raced to the kitchen but Russia was not found there either. His second guess was the bathroom, but he did not believe fully in the possibility until he hurried to this level's and found the door to be locked.

He knocked on the door, shouting out to Russia, "Yo, dude! What's going on? What are you doing?"

There was no reply. America pressed his ear against the door but could not hear Russia's soft gasps as he walked to the end of the bathroom and let his tears fall freely off his face. Soon he heard some words, but they were not English and were too quiet to make out anyway.

Russia stuck his arm against the wall then glued his warm forehead to it. Tears squeezed out from his eyes, acidic and painful, while he whimpered, "It wasn't supposed to be this way…"

He sniffed, taking a moment to rub his eyes before continuing to whine, "I ruined it. They won't be my friends no matter what I do, but I am trying so, so hard… I am sorry but… I don't understand what I did wrong. Why does Ukraine hate me? Why does everyone hate me? My actions… they make sense to me but… no one agrees, not even Belarus…"

He gulped but it did nothing to ease the pain in his throat.

"Why can't she see that I love her? Why can't anyone see that I love them? I don't want to hurt them. I-I want to be close… good friends… family… but no one wants that! Why? Why is it that even though I have siblings, I have never had a family? Why… have I… never been loved…?"

America kept banging on the wood of the door. Russia heard him starting to get angry, frustrated that he was not getting the answers he wanted. He shook his head, grinding it into his arm, as more tears cascaded and struck the gleaming floor.

"Please, America… Let us be friends. Please don't be angry for what I have done… in the past and to get you here. I planned this because I think I could love you too, like the others… Make you family..."

Russia mewled and dropped even more tears.

"Stop fighting me! Stop trying to be the best! I will hold you, protect you, care for you… Let me love you!"

A creak as a door pushed open. Russia gasped and straightened, but did not turn around to reveal his red-streaked face. He quivered and stared at the white of the wall as he heard light footsteps nearing him.

A mild voice reached him, recognizably China's. He stood behind him and murmured very quietly, "What did America do to you?"

In the meantime, America's infuriated yells continued, in the form of threats to break down this door. Russia twitched and choked, "I-I…"

Russia stiffened when China's hand touched his back. He turned his face away as he came around to his one side.

"Why did you hide?" Russia uttered now. "And why are you here now?"

"I went into a stall when I heard you coming," China replied softly. "So I could listen to you if you were going to talk."

"But why are you _here_?" Russia muttered again. "I thought you didn't want to be close to me."

His own words hurt him. Russia swallowed hard and could not prevent two fresh tears from escaping him.

"I... didn't know before how important it was for you…"

China slipped his arms around his waist. He immediately felt Russia's muscles shudder, making him wonder if he had made a mistake, until Russia spun around and caught him. China was yanked close and taken down with him to the floor. There, he was re-positioned, snuggled tightly and made to lean against Russia's chest. It was uncomfortable to be so close, but he did not resist this time now that the tears still sticking to Russia's face scraped against his when Russia nuzzled him.

"It _is_ important," Russia affirmed. "I want this but… I never get it. Not really. I show affection… waiting… but no one is giving it back. Unless they feel the obligation. I hate that though. I just want to love and be loved. People returning my hugs, my kisses… and giving them to me for free."

All went silent for them now that America had given up and departed. They were left alone now, on the floor across the room from the locked door.

"When you were talking," China whispered, putting his hands over Russia's to support him, "I understood that… you planned something."

"Yes. To be everyone's friend."

Russia regarded China's hair. It was long and tangled, a mess he wanted very much to fix. Russia set his hands first onto his shoulders, then onto his hair. China waited for Russia to continue speaking, but he did not. He only ran his fingers carefully through his hair, removing the knots from it.

The touch tickled slightly and felt pleasant, triggering shivers over his back. China relaxed, growing more comfortable now by Russia. He felt required to ask however, "How did you decide to do that?"

Russia stopped to hug him as he gave his response by his ear.

"So you want to know what I did?" he mumbled.

Russia leaned back and went on fixing his hair.

"Yes," China replied.

This time Russia did not stop, but carried on, "But if I am telling you, you cannot tell anyone else."

"Okay."

"Please… because they will hate me so much even though I only wanted good things."

China said, "I won't. I promise."

"Because you remember your other promise?"

"I don't want to get you in trouble. No good comes out of that."

Russia stated, "But that was not your first promise. That promise was that you wouldn't be mad at me. That you will try to understand first."

"So you knew it would come to this? Is there something I might be mad about?"

Russia embraced him gently from behind again, his clasped hands resting on his stomach and his face pressing into the crook of his slender neck.

"I thought it might happen," Russia whispered, "but… I didn't want it to. I never wanted anyone to get hurt. That was all an accident…"

China listened attentively as he sensed that Russia was about to tell him everything.

"I already told Belarus and Cuba… Ukraine knows a bit and so does Prussia…" Russia had finished brushing China's hair and now was merely stroking it repeatedly. "But I planned for a collapse, letting us be stuck here where we would have to work together and become friends to survive and escape…"

"But how?"

"What do you think?" Russia hugged him again. "How could I plan a storm that was not in the forecast?"

China ruminated on this. Russia murmured, "No one's figured it out yet… but can I be trusting you? You wouldn't be mad at me, right?"

Russia pressed the side of his face against his, and China was reminded of his tears. His emotions. His desperation. Guilt weighed down his heart, so China nodded.

"I got the help of a very, very old friend of mine," Russia whispered. "We planned the date, the time… except the time went a little wrong and that was how the mistake happened."

Russia sniffed and straightened up, lifting his head so he could set it over China's. By then, China had already gasped and said, "So you mean… You managed to make a deal with General Winter?"

"I think Prussia saw it… the special storm," Russia sighed. "But… he doesn't realize what he saw and I am trying to keep him quiet."

"So you also had him destroy only certain parts of the building," China continued. "So that the entrance would be blocked."

" _Da_. Exactly."

"But…"

"Hmm?"

"How did this happen so fast?"

Russia whispered, "Don't be mad… Everyone is alright."

"What?"

"I drugged the water. So he could have time to break the building."

China jolted. He gasped, "You drugged me?"

Russia flinched. He burrowed his face into his hair and China felt fresh and hot wetness splattering his skin. He frowned, felt the twist of guilt again, then said more gently, "I guess I understand. You didn't want anyone to get hurt, and you wanted to put us into a situation where we would have to cooperate."

"We aren't in danger now," Russia sighed. "The floor above won't collapse because General Winter removed most of the weight and is keeping more from being added. Digging ourselves out will be easy too."

"Is help coming?"

"No. I never called for help. We have to do this ourselves…"

China did not know what to say or feel. As he searched for an emotion, Russia nuzzled him and asked, "But you aren't mad at me, right? I want to take care of everyone. You heard me before. I love you all. I love you, China. You are my friend, right?"

He felt him squeeze him a little tighter, in worry. China touched his hands again and answered, "Yes."

Russia planted a kiss into the crown of his head then pulled away with a smile.

"So now, I am going to find a way to be America's friend," Russia told him. "I have many people on my side but he is such the problem! But he will learn that I love him and we will stop with our fighting. How fun that will be then! I will give him lots of hugs and he will be good… no more of the cockiness."

China replied, "I will help you if I can, but I think it is going to be very hard."

Russia set his head back over his. China turned his to the side and immediately upon doing so, Russia placed a hand on his cheek and pressed his head closer to his chest. Now he could hear Russia's heartbeat, slow and powerful in the cage of his ribs.

China sat and listened to it for a while, trying to understand the feelings that contorted Russia, the ones that had brought him to do what he had. The more he listened too, the more he understood. China became more comfortable here as he sensed the emptiness inside him that needed to be filled. He leaned in closer, allowing Russia to hold him tighter in his warm arms and smile into his hair.

Russia reached up and began stroking his thumb over his cheek, murmuring as he did, "I am alive too... Just like you are."

The hand slid down to China's neck, feeling his pulse while his was listened to. Russia sighed. He then continued to tell him in a feathery voice, "I think people forget it sometimes, but I feel emotions... the sadness, happiness, loneliness... I hurt like they do. I bleed the same when I am cut..."

With his fingers on his throat and his aching heart compelling him, Russia leaned down and touched another silent and dry kiss to his head.

"So please listen," he breathed. "When you hear my heart, you are hearing the proof of my pain. This is also the proof that I need to be loved just like everyone else..."

* * *

 **This is not a historical fic. I am not going to include everything because I don't know everything. The characters are written by how I see them in the show and webcomic.**

 **Granted all countries have bloody histories, but this isn't about that. The Hetalia characters are their people, and generations forget things, so this is why I believe not all Hetalia characters are traumatized/mentally unstable. But the ones that are, have corruption issues or bad relations with other countries. Russia was an overall poor nation for most of its existence but is now trying to hold a powerful position in the world. And in the webcomics, many characters have good relations with each other, hanging out and having fun. But the case is different for Russia. They don't like Russia because of current events or very recent history, as with the post-soviet countries, because those old, negative feelings keep them russophobic. They aren't thinking of old wars, but things like Crimea.**

 **So, I'm not writing a history textbook. These are characters with personalities created by Himaruya and I am using them to create a story.**

 **And finally, why do I write Italy not as North Italy and Britain not as England? Because I am copying the English dub of the show.**

 **Positive and negative critique about the story please, with this message in mind.**


	9. Дружба- Friendship

No one came back to the door. It seemed to be understood that Russia was not going to respond or emerge for a while, and so he was left alone. America had though, been serious in his insistence to kick down the door. Seeing Russia backing out, undeniably upset yet shivering with a different meaning, drove him to want to know the reason for those emotions. An itching fear that came with his ignorance.

Britain had however, advised him against it, worried that it could be seen as an aggressive move that would worsen the situation. America thus pulled himself away but sat down, stationed to watch the door for the moment of Russia's exit. All the while inside the bathroom, talk still continued. China was still astonished and searching for answers, and so he posed more questions to which Russia had much to say in response.

"So, why do you like being close so much?" he asked. "Isn't your place against…"

"It isn't like that," Russia murmured. "I didn't mean _that_ when I said that I loved everyone. This is family love. It is allowed."

"But you enjoy it so much."

"You are meaning this affection. Ah… I don't know. I am used to people trying to keep a distance from me, avoiding me… still forming their little alliances and keeping me away. But when I am close, I feel so trusted. I am bigger and stronger but then I get to decide to treat them with kindness. I like that."

"You think you are stronger than me?"

"Well… you are different. I know you are very strong, don't worry, but it is nice that I can be trusted to touch you without hurting you."

"But if you mean the others…"

Russia nodded. "They are weak, yes. Breakable. It's very adorable, isn't it?"

"But do you love them, or just like the power?"

"What do you mean?" Russia muttered.

"You just said that you like deciding."

"Of course. I feel happy inside though, when I get to protect them."

"Like objects?" China specified.

"No, not like that. I know it is love. I feel the warmth inside, and that makes it love, doesn't it?"

"But how much do you care about them?"

Russia purred, "I like when they are happy."

"How about America?"

"Hmm…" Russia tucked his face into his hair. "I don't know. When he is happy, it is often when he feels superior about something. His laughs can be mean… but if I were to hear nice ones, I think I would like them."

China stayed still for him, but was admittedly beginning to wonder when he would get to leave. Russia did not seem to have any intention of letting him go, for it was obvious by his caresses and squeezes that he was happy now. To pull away or even mention that he wanted to go, would bring a load of crushing sadness back upon Russia, perhaps enough to invoke anger. The guilt would overwhelm China as well, for hearing and feeling Russia's tears was incredibly worrisome when he was not used to them.

"I had dreams before though, where we were friends," Russia continued in a whisper. "Where America was quiet and listening to me as I showed him around Moscow. Another where we were watching a movie… a horror movie without a name. It was funny to see him scared. It was nice to comfort him too. I have lots of dreams like this, but lots more where we are fighting and I wake up angry. A lot of these dreams are just memories though, ones I cannot forget because I am reminded of them every time we disagree."

China wondered, "So you dream about me?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What about?"

Russia laughed lightly. "You aren't jealous, are you?"

"No, that wasn't why I asked!" In embarrassment, he reddened. "I was just wondering…"

"I know, I know," he chuckled. "But yes. Sometimes nice things, but sometimes I dream that we aren't getting along and it makes me unhappy. I know we don't always agree but… I really like that we have grown closer over the years even when we both were having rough times. It is good to have a friend who is also strong, because then no one can pick on us!"

China smiled faintly. It was pleasant to hear this, and to be referred to as a friend. He stopped thinking about leaving and decided that it was not so bad being close to him. The floor was cold, but Russia perfectly warm. The slow expansion and collapse of his chest also caused a haze of fatigue to wash over him. He closed his eyes now that he was out of questions, choosing to turn his head over Russia's heart to listen to its beats again.

The breath that escaped Russia's lips sounded of his delight. He pet his hair again, encouraging him to stay. By the time his hand dropped away, Russia too closed his eyes and felt the exhaustion from his hard work upstairs. He leaned back and both relaxed here for many long and peaceful minutes. When the time came to speak again though, Russia sighed, "I guess I have to make appearance..."

He shifted. China dragged himself away and Russia stood up to creep away toward the door. Before unlocking it however, Russia glanced toward the rectangular mirror to make sure that there were no red traces to betray that he had been crying. Satisfied, he escaped into the hall pretending as though nothing had happened.

America jumped up to his feet. "Dude, what happened? Why did you leave like that?'

Russia looked over him, but America did not seem angry at him now. He replied all the same, "Nothing. I just needed a break from everything."

The door opened again and China emerged. America flashed his eyes over to him and noticed immediately that his hair was no longer tangled, but straight and tamed as it hung over his shoulders. He looked back to Russia, comprehending.

"I think we need to talk more," America said. "There seems to be some things you are keeping from us, and talking calmly about them is better than yelling and fighting, isn't it?"

"Of course."

"Good. So, do you want to start talking?"

Russia kept his face neutral. "About what?"

"Anything you are keeping secret."

"Oh but, we all have our secrets! We don't just tell them to anybody."

Russia stepped forward, passing America to go into the kitchen. He was trailed there, but Russia did not seem to want to continue this discussion now that he had changed rooms. An entourage followed them like a paparazzi, waiting to see if anything exciting would transpire. Nothing did. Russia commented that people must be getting hungry, and so they went through the steps again to bring food to the masses.

As they piled containers onto the counter, America asked in a quiet tone, "I wonder how much this food will last us?"

Russia replied, also softly, "I don't know. The leftovers might be gone by tonight, but we can be making more things. No more meat, but some vegetables and enough to bake more if we want to..."

At the doorway was Canada, France, Britain, Cuba, and China. They remained silent and watched the discussion taking place in front of the humming microwave.

"We've also got vending machine stuff left," America pointed out.

"Too bad you used up so much of it before when you didn't need to."

America muttered, "What difference does it make? Might as well build up our strength instead of half-starving all the time and be weak."

"Strength from junk food?"

"You of all people should know that you burn more calories when it's cold!"

"That is the bad fat! It is better to be eating-"

Before it could escalate further, Britain interjected, "Holy hell! Stop bickering about every single thing!"

They went silent and went about their business, but with a tenseness in their bodies that proved how dissatisfied they were that the conflict had had no resolution. They sent food away to the people on their sides of the hall and while Russia was gone, China and Cuba prepared the next dishes for him so that things would go faster.

The room at the end of the hall, _his_ room, was a welcome haven after being near America again. On the walk through the cafeteria until there, Russia was sided by China and Cuba and already feeling the relief.

"Are you okay?" Cuba asked. "You ran off, man."

"I know, but it's okay now. I was with China…" Then quieter, Russia whispered, " _I told him too_."

Cuba understood. He nodded and made no remark.

In the room, they sat down in the corner by where Belarus was. Ukraine looked away, the others talked amongst themselves of things of little importance, and Prussia was unresponsive between Austria and Hungary. Russia watched him while he ate, more specifically the slow movements as he respired. Prussia had not been given any food, as when Russia had served Austria and Hungary, he had insisted that they leave him alone if he was so tired.

That way, no one would try to wake him up and find that they could not.

Prussia would be fed later. Russia planned to treat him once he was done working for the day and sure to stay around, keeping watch. He exhaled deeply then drank his water, before catching sight of Belarus looking at him. He remembered then. She was meant to be talked to.

After lunch and the dishes had been returned to the kitchen, he stalked down the hall. Russia saw that Italy and Japan were gone and only Germany was in the hall, sitting upright but with seemingly closed eyes. Taking the opportunity, Russia hopped into the room he had broken into before and quickly located the drawer key. He tucked it in a pocket then peeked out into the hall, deciding that it was safe to re-enter.

Russia did not notice that Germany's eyes had been open a crack. He only rushed past him to return to the room before anyone thought he had been gone for too long. Russia pushed himself in and headed to Belarus's side. The only ones who could see them behind the desk were Austria and Hungary lying against the opposite wall, but from behind Belarus, Russia extracted the tiny key and touched it to her back. She shifted just enough, and while Russia looked forward, he slid the key into the lock and turned it.

Back into the pocket it went. An incredible wave of relief hit him as he realized how much safer the items were now.

 _If I had known how many people I was going to bring here, I would have hid everything upstairs!_

If he ever got the chance, he would move them there. A locked drawer was still suspicious, but at least now he and Belarus could move freely.

Russia stood up and turned on the computer resting on the desk. Everyone except for Prussia looked up to what he was doing and were surprised to find the computer monitor changing from a black screen to a bright, blue one. They watched as he logged in then waited for everything to load.

"You could do that?" Estonia gasped.

"Da. All the passwords here are the same apparently. I knew what it was."

"Is there internet?" Lithuania carefully brought his aching body into a standing position.

"No." Russia's eyes glanced to the bottom right corner of the screen. "But that was to be expected. I just wanted to see if there were any games to play. I don't want you to be bored while I am gone, after all!"

He did a search and soon located the folder containing a few options. Chess was selected, then Russia pulled back the swivel chair and turned it out towards them as an invitation.

"I think there is two-player option. It would be fun to play against each other, so why don't two come up here?" And quickly Russia chose for them, calling up, "Latvia, you like the chess. Maybe you should play with Estonia. That would be interesting, I believe!"

Russia was glad when looks of interest were ignited on their faces. They quickly got up and beelined for the open menu awaiting them. A smile hit him as he backed away to allow Latvia to occupy the seat and Estonia to stand beside him. He watched them begin their game until China and Cuba returned from having had washed the dishes. Once they headed toward him in curiosity, Russia asked abruptly, "China, how strong are you feeling?"

"Not bad now that I am up."

"Do you think you could help upstairs? Even just a little?"

"I guess so."

"Good. Cuba and Belarus will be helping too."

Belarus did not question it. When Russia moved, she did too. They all walked to the stairwell at Russia's hasty pace while he asked them, "They are still in the kitchen, right?"

"Counting everything, yes," Cuba replied.

They rushed up the stairs. As they walked along the higher level toward the blockage, Russia felt safe enough to say, "So all of you know what I did."

The three looked at each other, Belarus taking in China's addition.

"But Belarus," Russia went on, "something has been bothering you. What is it?"

"The knife. I think you should put it back."

Both Cuba and China jolted.

"You _did_ take it?" Cuba inhaled.

China asked, "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I did not do it first," Russia murmured. "I walked into the kitchen and noticed one was gone. I know that whoever did it, did it because of me. I was needing to be equally readily to defend myself."

"But you don't need a knife to do that," Belarus grunted. "And you tucked yours away anyway. Too far if you want to use it."

"True…" he murmured.

"So wait, if you didn't take it first, then did America?" Cuba inquired. "Is he lying?"

"I think so," Russia nodded. "We started getting upset with each other, so he took weapon in case."

Belarus said, "I don't think America would use a knife on you if you were unarmed. It would make him look bad."

"You think?" Russia hummed.

"That is a good point," China agreed. "A knife is too extreme. America is too strong for a knife; it has to be someone weaker."

"And if it is only a Baltic," Belarus muttered, "then you really don't need a knife. You can easily defend yourself with nothing."

"Still though," Russia sighed. "I can't just return it. They'll know it was me and get me in trouble no matter what."

"I will say it was me," his sister replied instantaneously. "They will believe it. I will return it and say I was only worried for you."

Russia smiled. "That is good. Then America will stop being so mad at me… I like this!"

His heart picked up. China and Cuba stepped back as Russia bounced forward and embraced Belarus. "Ah, thank you!" he breathed in an excited whisper. "This will fix my mistake. I will be able to befriend America now!"

He drew away and nodded a few times to himself. "Later though, yes," he decided. "We will work first."

They then began their labour and all feelings numbed as their bodies did. America and company came up the stairs and began work on their own end. No words were exchanged, but there was however, a piercing glare that was shot at them from America as he muttered to Canada, France, and Britain.

"Look, now he dragged up China and Belarus." America tossed his head in their direction and the others looked over. "I know that China is quite hurt, considering how he lay in the hall for so long. It's terrible that he's making them work!"

"Are they being forced?" France pondered. "How could he just make them work?"

"I don't know," America muttered. "Some nations are just terrified of him and will do what he says to avoid trouble."

"I don't know about China," Britain threw in. "He's strong enough to stand up to Russia if he wants to."

America re-evaluated those in Russia's presence and went quiet as he saw the point. Those with Russia were close to him and did not seem to be afraid, but when it had been Lithuania he still thought otherwise. The complaint was dropped and both sides worked on, freezing their bodies and burning them red. Rooms continued to be stuffed by pieces of floor, ceiling, and random furniture, while snow collapsed and plowed into people occasionally.

Russia desperately brushed the snow off himself whenever huge clumps stuck to his clothes. He did not want it to melt from his heat and chill him, nor did he want appear any less cuddly to others. He dug for Belarus when a level of snow fell onto her, shoveling it out with his scraped hands until her body squirmed free. Again, they felt scorched and now he was not alone with the experience, yet at least they could take more rests now that there were more people.

On Russia's break, he regarded America without turning away. He was interested to see his strength when he carried heavy objects and his endurance when he continued despite his discoloured hands. Then, while watching him, he started seeing a quality that he had not really believed America had possessed. Whenever America raced in to help either France or Britain, Russia watched his facial expression and found that America seemed legitimately concerned that they would injure themselves further.

Often Russia had believed America only helped others to show off his power and to force them to owe him gratitude. Upon careful observation however, he was starting to think otherwise.

 _So if he didn't take the knife… then he really hasn't done anything outside of helping everyone._ A knot twisted his gut. _He is really trying to take care of us…_

The knife needed to go back. Russia longed to end this feud and already felt compelled to meet America and hug him. He wanted to be subject to America's kindness for a change, and also donate some of his own to him. Russia desired once again the idea of a life where they could work together instead of fighting, being acceptably close.

He waited eagerly until the time where everyone wanted to return downstairs. Once it came, he knew that Belarus would take care of everything. When Russia made his way back to the room on his own time, he found a cluster posed by Lithuania in the chair and excitedly watching the score of the pinball game going up. He observed them for a bit before heading over to where Prussia was placed lying down between Hungary and Austria.

It was about time for him to be waking up, if he had eyeballed the amount correctly. Russia knelt down and murmured, "How is Prussia? Is he cold?"

He touched Prussia's limp arm and found the skin to be rather so. A sigh escaped him and he dragged Prussia's body up into a sitting position. He balanced him against his body then massaged his face, smooshing his cheeks and opening his eyes until a reaction was provoked.

Prussia groaned and came to life. " _Whaa_ ," he slurred.

He closed his eyes once more and flopped into Russia. His hands rubbed his face again until Prussia was forced to become more conscious and notice that Russia was there.

"I am back," purred Russia, putting enough cheerful enthusiasm into the statement to emphasis the goodness of this.

"Russia…" Prussia breathed out thickly. "Why…"

"You should take my sweater again. You have gotten so cold."

Russia would not allow him to finish his question. His sweater was slipped off then passed to him, and out of pattern Prussia put it on. It gave him a rush of warmth once his skin was covered, and Prussia sighed from the instant relief. He was soon held tightly by Russia, although Austria and Hungary were watching in the background with eyes of cautious concern.

Hands that were becoming so familiar spread fingers over his arm and back while the equally familiar scent of his fell over him like a sheet. Only one nuzzle had been given to his cheek however, before a shriek escaped Latvia. There was a gasp from Ukraine, a yelp from Poland, then Lithuania jumped out from his chair in utter abandonment of the game and cried, "Belarus, what are you _doing_?"

Everyone scrambled back. Belarus remained rooted to her spot by the computer with the kitchen knife grasped firmly in one hand and upright. The pinball on screen dropped as all continued backing away with tensed muscles as she stood in place. Belarus turned her head slowly and looked over them all, the computer now projecting the _game over_ screen.

Her lack of intent gave Russia the time to play along and cry, "Belarus!"

She twitched her head and they locked gazes.

"Why do you have a knife?" he gasped. "Don't be telling me you were intending to be using it!"

"I did it for you."

Ukraine was struck by shock. Russia pounced to his feet.

"Me? Why?" he cried.

"To protect you."

"Aren't you knowing how much trouble this caused! You, you have to tell America what happened! And put that _back_!"

"I will," she uttered. "After I know who took the other knife first."

"No, right now. _Now_ , Belarus."

She sprang and snatched Latvia by the arm. With a yip, he was snapped into her side to be set upon by her bark, "Do you have it? Where is it?"

"I-I don't know!" he yelped. "I didn't take it!"

Her hands smacked his pockets and he cried out again when she roughly patted the rest of him. America burst into the room followed by his herd, attracted by the yelling and cries. All expectation had been that Russia would be the source of the problem, but now Latvia was spotted as Belarus's hostage, and there, of course, was one of the missing kitchen knives clasped and ready in her right hand.

His blue eyes widened when Russia stepped forward, pushing through the crowd to stand alone before her. He broadened his chest and proclaimed, "They don't have any knife on them! Don't you remember the taking off of their clothes this morning?"

Russia slunk closer still. Belarus squeezed Latvia tighter to herself and hissed, "Someone must have hid it in another location! They will grab it when they want it and then use it on you!"

Latvia writhed vainly in her grasp although no blade was pressed against him. His stress was uncomfortably apparent for all and Russia stepped forward again, addressing her in a calm voice, "I don't think it was anyone in here... Please be leaving Latvia alone."

Perfect. Now he had placed himself into the position of a hero and naturally, in front of America, whom he pretended not to see. When Russia stepped closer again, Belarus released Latvia and he skittered free. Russia caught him upon contact when he had crashed into him, immediately rubbing the back of his shivering body and murmuring soothing words. He looked up from the crown of Latvia's head to Belarus, beckoning now with his other hand to give him the weapon.

She walked forward and turned the knife in her hand until the blade pointed down. Wordlessly, Russia took it between a few fingers and when Latvia jolted from fresh fear, he was sure to give his hair a pet.

"You are okay now," repeated Russia. "I will not hurt you."

Another pet, then he let go of him and turned. Russia threw a look of surprise onto his face as he pretended to notice America there for the first time. He exclaimed, "Oh, America! This isn't what it is looking like! I just took this knife from-"

"Yeah… I saw."

Russia waited expectantly for him to continue. He did not disappoint.

"So she, uh... had that one?" America asked in what seemed to Russia like a sheepish manner.

Russia nodded, but the effect from a few behind him doing the same made his nodding seem believable. America dropped his shoulders for a moment, then re-stiffened when Russia walked toward him with the knife even though it was upside-down and loose in his hold.

"Here," Russia murmured. "You can take it back. You might not believe I would do it."

More guilt wracked America. His eyebrows furrowed and he frowned, replying, "Look, man…"

Russia slid the handle into America's hand. Their fingers touched briefly; America's had been warm. America glanced down at the knife now in his grasp, regarding it in a muddled haze. He then perked and his guilt sharpened to suspicion.

"Hold on," he uttered. "There is still one more missing. How can I be sure that you still don't have your own knife?"

His body squeezed. Russia no longer had a weapon and to hear this now had more of an impact than when he had truly had one. He had not ever considered that America would continue to distrust him, when Belarus had claimed to have taken a knife on his behalf.

"No…" Russia swallowed and looked to the carpet. "I don't have one. I don't know who has it…"

"And just _how_ do you expect me to believe that?"

"You can search me if you like..."

America spat, "Even you wouldn't be dumb enough to carry it on you. Where did you hide it?"

Russia wondered where this stress was coming from. Unused to being fully innocent, he felt helpless in the defense of himself.

"I-I don't have one…"

America huffed through his nose and muttered, "I think we should search this room."

Now his heart had really jumped. The locked drawer was going to be tugged, then broken into to reveal its contents, and to find all of the items he had stolen from them would turn out worse than if they had only found a knife.

"America…"

He tilted his face, nearing it to Russia's and analyzing his expression with his scrutinizing glare.

"You looked scared," he stated.

Russia could only reply, "Why are you doing this to me?"

"You are hiding something. You are _always_ hiding something, and when at your place, I expect that something exists to be found."

"Why have you forgotten?" Russia swallowed again. "I did so much for you. I saved you… if I was as bad as you thought, then why would I have done that?"

"So that we would owe you something."

His body wanted to writhe from the ever-rising stress as he struggled so vainly to bring America back onto the path he wanted.

"Please…"

It felt strange to direct this word toward America. It was as well, for America, bizarre to receive it.

"What?"America drew back.

His pulse pounded in his ears. The burning heat of adrenaline clenched him as he wanted to say it yet was afraid to at the same time.

"I…"

"Well?"

"I just... want to be your friend…"

America's eyebrows flew up his face.

"I…" But Russia could not get himself to continue. He started regretting having had said this to America, fearing that it was going to ruin his plans further.

"What do you mean?" America blinked. " _My_ friend?"

Russia nodded slowly.

"It is… why I have been trying so hard." He cast his eyes down to the carpet. "I thought that because relations have changed… between our governments… that we could become closer for the first time. But you haven't really changed your mind about me and I... was sad. So I thought that maybe if I can prove my kindness, my helpfulness, my… my…"

He glanced up to check on America. The eyes he met were no longer severe, but considerate.

"You… uh, mean to say that you are trying to become friends with me?"

Now he nodded more quickly in his earnestness. America's body fell limp.

"So that is what you wanted when you saved me? My friendship?"

Russia continued nodding all the way through, his eyes beginning to glimmer with hope.

"Yes, yes, of course," he breathed out. "That's all I've tried to do since we got down here but- but then... things started going wrong and you got mad at me…"

America swept his gaze over the others watching him and Russia. He considered his knife again, then sighed, "How 'bout you follow me... I think we need to talk some more."

A check around himself, then a nod. America drew back into the hall and Russia crept behind him. All who remained watched in awe as they departed together, already racing to conclusions about what was to happen.

"Is he going to attack Russia?" Ukraine asked worriedly. "He wouldn't, would he?"

Belarus bristled at the idea. Canada murmured, "No, no, he… wouldn't do that."

Other whispers arose.

" _Are they really going to be friends_?"

" _Impossible… not just like that…_ "

" _Does Russia really want to do that?_ "

" _Why would he…_ "

Britain put forth his view. "You know," he said, "it wouldn't be so surprising if America had wanted this as well. What with his new boss… What might have been holding him back is how many of his people still distrust Russia and, with Russia seeming to be up to something, America would have found reason to as well."

"So then, if there is nothing against Russia…" France continued, "then America is willing to befriend him?"

"I believe so, yes. I don't imagine that America likes fighting with him, especially when they have done it for so long."

The whispers commenced again.

" _They've always hated each other…_ "

" _It'll never happen._ "

" _He hates Russia…_ "

" _Russia's going to use him…_ "

" _They'll never be friends_."

"Should we be worried?" Cuba looked to Britain when he asked this.

"For whom?"

"America took Russia away with a knife!" Belarus cut in with a snarl. "He's going to start something and blame it on him!"

Canada began to reply, "He wouldn't-"

"Lesser America! How would you know?"

"Easy now." Britain gently pulled Canada back from Belarus. "Let's not lose our heads here…"

Then Britain turned and asked Canada, "Could you follow them? In case… something _does_ happen, how about you make sure we have a witness?"

"Alright," he murmured.

Canada parted from the group and drifted after those who had already left. He headed for his previous hiding spot behind the vending machine and stationed himself there, ready to spy on all events across the room and in the kitchen.

* * *

When they had first stepped into the hall, Russia had glanced up ahead. There he espied Germany, Italy, and Japan's shock once they had seen America carrying a knife point down between three fingers. The way they looked at Russia however, convinced him that they believed America had apprehended the knife from him and was now going to punish him. It discontented him, but without any comments, he was not provoked as they passed through another doorway.

They strolled through the cafeteria in silence. Russia stopped behind America in the kitchen as he directly slid the knife into the wooden rack and together, they both stared at the empty slot remaining until America sighed.

"I don't have it," he murmured. "Really. I don't."

Russia replied just as gently, "I think I believe you."

"Oh?" America turned around and leaned back into the counter. "What made you change your mind?"

"Well… now that I am thinking about it, it doesn't seem like something you would do. It is too dangerous, knife. You would only hurt the outside, I think, with your punches."

America laughed softly. "Yeah, that seems about right."

Russia smiled. He quipped, "That's why you don't like ghosts, isn't it? You can't be punching them!"

"You know about that?" America chuckled.

"Mmm, of course."

"Ha, well- I like to be able to show bad guys who's boss." America smiled and boxed the air. "If I could punch ghosts, I would go around and hit all the ones bothering people."

Russia breathed out a laugh. "Silly you… Let's not do any of the hitting here then."

"Yeah, alright dude."

Their laughs eased away and their faces relaxed. Russia clasped his hands and viewed America with a placid gaze. It felt much better, Russia decided, to be free of the knife. The feeling of innocence was a better one and he was glad that America had put it away instead of continuing to hold it.

"But… you wouldn't take a knife then," America went on, " if you're trying to make friends. Right? You wouldn't do that."

"Oh no, of course not," Russia breathed. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I wish I knew though, who did it. Who is so afraid of me that they would take a knife? And then not return it, even after seeing how much trouble it is getting me in? It is so cruel…"

"But you already searched them," America pointed out. "We can only find it then, if we look around."

Russia swiftly replied, "What about your people?"

"My people?"

"Britain, France, Canada… You know."

America shook his head. "That's impossible. They haven't left my side since we got stuck here."

"What about bathroom times?"

"I doubt it."

Russia asked, "Couldn't you search them? Everyone with me were. Can't we be fair?"

"Alright, fine. But I know they won't have it because it isn't something they would do."

"And the other three. Germany, Japan, and Italy. Search them too."

America scoffed, "Them?" Then he shrugged. "I guess, but they're so hurt that they hardly move from their spot together."

A pause. Russia gazed at America and blinked languidly with a smile still faint on his lips.

America said, "So…"

Russia tilted his head. "So you really do believe me now?"

"Yeah, I guess I do… you did for me already anyway."

It made a smile come to America to see Russia react so energetically, perking up like a squirrel and regarding him with a bright expression.

"Really? You do?"

"Sure. I think I believe you too."

Russia asked, "And can we be friends?"

"Well… I mean if you're into it and you keep doing what you're doing… then sure, why not. It's not like I want to hate you forever."

Russia became even more excited. America could not think of a time he had seen him so blatantly happy and it now made him laugh lightly again.

"What?" Russia wondered why he was expressing humor.

"You."

"Me?"

"What's with you?"

"Mmm, I'm happy. Very happy."

America rubbed an eye as he laughed, "Yeah, I can tell!"

It itched to be so far from him. Russia moved in closer, hesitated, but when America stood up and stayed there, he knew he was invited. His arms lifted and slid around him, pulling him into him gently. One hand caressed America's upper back and then, to his extreme delight, America wrapped his arms around him and returned the embrace.

They remained here for a few seconds, Russia's fingers gliding over his shoulder blades and spine in the silence. He wondered when America would let go, for he knew that he would not anytime soon. It soon became apparent though that America did not want to either. America squeezed him just a little tighter, exhaling, "Whoa… I never thought I would do this…"

"It's okay?"

"Yeah…"

"This is very nice," Russia whispered. "You are very warm, America. I like this… do you?"

America stuck his head over his shoulder and faced the welcome heat of Russia's neck.

"Mm-hmm..."

Russia tittered and claimed, "That is no answer, America!"

He could not bear to have his hair tickling his face. Russia dared to tilt his head down enough to press his cheek against his. He waited, but America did not react to what he had done.

"I…" America blushed to admit it. "I _do_ like it, but I mean, I like the idea of losing an enemy. My life gets easier, your life too… and it's nice to gain another friend."

"And the hugging?"

"Ahh…" He grew more embarrassed. "Sure…"

"So yes? Hugs are good?"

"Um… yeah."

Russia chirped, "Great! That makes me very happy. From now on I am hoping to give you more. They are very friendly, _da_?"

"Cool, I guess…?"

Finally America slipped away from Russia, who let him free without prevention. The warmth lingered however and Russia looked at him tenderly.

"Let us do sleeping together, tonight," Russia decided. "I want to do cozy thing with you."

"Whoa, whoa. You said _friend_ , didn't you?"

"Yes. It is a friend thing."

"Ha, um… not really…"

Russia protested, "Oh but, why not? It is like hugging but on floor! And it is cold too so we can keep each other warm."

America relaxed as he caught onto what Russia had meant, but he was still in no way eager to sleep near him.

"I know but…"

"I would do it with everyone," Russia assured him. "It's okay. It isn't embarrassing or bad, because it is like family, friendly thing."

"Hmm..." America hummed dubiously.

"Why can't friends be close like that? It doesn't have to be a big deal. It is nice thing, but you seem to be changing its meaning. Like with kissing. That is a friendly thing too."

America interjected, "Don't you think of kissing me!"

Russia frowned. "You are ruining nice things. They should be meant to be shared signs of kindness. Do you not know of National Kissing Day?"

"Oh jeez, that better not be today."

"No, it is in July."

"Ah right."

Russia smiled. "But it can be every day for whoever wants it!"

America's eyes widened and he guffawed. Then he could not help it, and he laughed at Russia's forwardness.

"But if you don't want to..." Russia's smile endured. "Then more hugs for you!"

"Ahm…"

When Russia dove in and squeezed him though, America smiled in relief over his shoulder and patted his back. The hug survived for a long period of time again so America relaxed his hand on his frame and quietly respired. His eyes closed while he rested his face into the bump of his clavicle, as though he would fall asleep there.

"I didn't know you were like this," America murmured. "I kind of just thought…"

"You can say it, go ahead."

"That when you tried to get close to people, it was because you were _trying_ to scare them."

"I know they are scared, but I try to show them that I don't want to hurt them. It is very hard to do it though."

"But you do understand why though…"

"No, I don't. I know we had bad history together, but they forget that those were bad times for everyone and that I was forced to make the choices I did."

America tried to sound gentle when he disagreed, "Hmm, I don't know about that…"

"How could you? You were not in the Soviet Union. You did not have the bosses I had."

"Alright, but ignoring the past… What about the present?"

Russia replied, "No one listens to me and they decide what I want. They think I am out to get them and now their people are just so… russophobic. Like your people."

"But it's changing for me," America said. "Really. Things are different and I'm listening now."

Russia stroked his back. "I'm not trying to take over," he murmured. "I try to help people who need it, but it isn't seen that way. You enter a country, and they'll say you're _liberating_ them. I enter a country, and they say that I am _invading_ them. And this is Crimea in the nutshell."

"Hey, um… Crimea is…" America shook his head. "I don't really know what to think nowadays. Let's forget that for now."

Russia massaged a muscle in appreciation. He did not want to discuss controversial things when it could break this fragile lattice of friendship. America emitted a quivering exhale when the stiffness from all his work today was massaged away when Russia covered his lower back. He fell even more limply into him and Russia chuckled in his throat.

"When are we going to go back?" Russia ran his hands up to his shoulder blades.

"I don't know. I'm kind of hungry now."

"Of course you are!"

"Yep."

Russia laughed, "Maybe then, after everyone gets dinner, we should bake something."

"Bake?"

" _Da_. There isn't enough to cook, but there is still lots of sugar, flour, eggs… I think more cookies can be made."

"I could totally go for some cookies right now. It's been a long ass day, you know? Let's do it. Let's make cookies."

"That is good to hear!" Russia chirped. "I think we will have much fun!"

And in the embrace they still held, Russia dabbed a kiss to his hair and only received half the protest he had expected.


	10. Сердцебиение- Heartbeat

**Socialist Fraternal Kiss : special form of greeting between members of communist states. Inspiration for his actions, but also because Russia tries to be affectionate on multiple occasions in the webcomics/ show.**

* * *

Russia was gone. With only this thought Prussia immediately set himself onto wobbling feet and attempted a straight line as the soporific effects of the drugs wore off. Through prodigious willpower he was able to chase away the blackness edging his vision and keep adequate balance, stumbling only into France on his crooked path to the door.

Prussia tugged open the dented wood and dragged himself into the hall. There, his eyes homed in on Germany's figure a bit aways and a shine fell over the pink. Prussia skipped down toward him without a moment's hesitation, his name bouncing quietly off his tongue.

"Germany… Germany…"

He dropped to his knees and slid across the floor to him. Germany sat up and carefully caught and hugged him, minding his own injuries and the ones Prussia may have had.

"Are you okay?" Germany caressed his back and rumbled.

"I'm fine," Prussia murmured.

"I saw you walking strangely before."

"I… It's nothing."

Germany furrowed his eyebrows, already aware that something was odd about Prussia's behaviour. He went on to inquire however, "Why didn't you come see me before? Is everything alright?"

Prussia inhaled and closed his eyes. A shiver scampered down his spine as he imagined the feeling of Russia's hands around his throat. A lump dropped into his throat and resided there as Russia's threat also floated in his mind:

 _I can do something else. I could make one of your friends disappear instead._

"I'm s-sorry," Prussia choked as he pulled away but stayed kneeling before him. "I should have come earlier but I… couldn't move so well."

"I saw you moving by yourself before," Germany uttered. "You are acting strange. This has to do with Russia."

"No, no!" Prussia gasped. "Not him. He isn't doing anything…"

Italy and Japan looked to Germany with twin expressions of worry. He replied in a low and serious tone, "I have not been able to move much since I got here. To occupy myself, I have spent most of my time observing Russia and I have seen him sneaking around. He goes into rooms that contain nothing. He speaks in a roundabout way, avoiding questions, and he has been keeping a hold on you at all times. Belarus is helping him too, isn't she?"

Germany grit his teeth as he straightened his back.

"Brother, tell me," he muttered. "Do you know what Russia is hiding?"

Prussia answered, "Russia isn't hiding anything! He's just... been trying to help people."

Japan asked, "Have you been threatened?"

"No! Don't think anything like that, please. Russia is good. Look, he gave me this sweater because I was cold." Prussia nodded deeply to try to appear more earnest, in order to convince them. "He's wearing a T-shirt now. He's freezing his ass off now for me..."

"Prussia. What do you know?" Germany growled. "If he has threatened you into silence, I will deal with him personally. I will protect you. He cannot treat you like this- not again."

Prussia clutched at the baggy folds of the sweater. He shook his head again and again, pleading, "Please don't think these things… You can't have those thoughts."

 _Because he'll think I told you something_ , he thought but could not say, _and then he will go after someone…_

Germany raised his functioning arm and set his large hand on his shoulder. "I will protect you," he repeated. "He will not hurt you."

"No, no…"

"Why?" Italy piped up now. "Germany can do it. Soon he'll be just as big and strong as ever!"

"You don't understand…" Prussia murmured, before realizing this statement alone had been too much. His eyes shot open and he jolted, nearly slapping his hand over his mouth.

"What don't we understand?" Germany uttered. "Tell me. What is Russia doing?"

"W-wait," Prussia glanced over his shoulder. "I-it's fine… Okay, Russia _is_ doing something but… it will only be worse if we try to stop him now. All he is doing I think, is trying to befriend everyone. He is dead set on it and so he is trying to be nice to us."

"What does that have to do with going into rooms and lying?"

"Maybe he's just searching for the knife…" Prussia improvised.

Japan asked, "Didn't America just find it in that room?"

"Belarus had that one. She stole it because she wanted to defend Russia if someone attacked him."

"Why did America take Russia away?" Italy tossed out.

"To talk to him," Prussia murmured. "I think they started to get along."

"So he doesn't have a knife," Germany summarized.

Prussia became confused. "Wait, so you believe him?"

"There were only two knives missing." Germany shifted. "So I am sure."

He lifted his shirt to reach behind his back. The notorious blade of pointed silver was brought into view and Prussia inhaled sharply. A dot of light shone near the razor-sharp tip and bands glimmered over the rest of the stainless steel as Germany rotated it in his hand and watched the hall.

Prussia whispered urgently, " _Why do you have this_?"

He leaned over the knife to better conceal it from sight. Germany lowered it into his lap and whispered back, "I am too weak to defend myself and I did not like to be in this state at Russia's place. I asked Italy to get a knife for me, just in case. I soon knew my choice was right when Russia began acting strange, and until now, I had thought that he did take a knife in retaliation."

"You have to fess up, Germany!" Prussia gasped. "You having the knife is still a problem!"

Germany turned the knife down then held it out to Prussia.

"Russia is dangerous and threatening you. This has to end."

"That's insane! I can't take that!"

Germany said, "I can't let you live like you did before. Not again. Never. Don't hurt Russia unless you have to, but show it to him if you need to defend yourself. He doesn't have one so you have an advantage. You must take this."

Prussia checked the hall again before reaching out with slightly shivering fingers to take the knife.

"Tell me now," Germany put firmly, "what has happened."

Prussia swayed from powerful and conflicting emotions. He put the blade under the band of his underwear then covered it with his pants, shirt, and Russia's sweater, but he still could not speak.

"It's better to leave Russia alone," he whispered, despite having had agreed to take the knife. "I don't think he will hurt anyone now as long as he gets his way."

"No," Germany growled. "He can't bully people into getting what he wants! What has he said to you?"

"It's not me he threatened," Prussia hissed as he kept his head turned to watch the hall. "He said that he would do something to someone I care about... I don't want him to hurt anyone."

"He won't," Germany countered. "He wouldn't dare."

"He would try to make it so that there was no proof that it was him."

"Too late now. I know what he said to you, so I would know he did it. There. Now his threat is invalid and you can tell him that."

Prussia considered this, but he still quivered at the idea.

"Are you sure he wouldn't still do it?"

"No. It would get him in so much trouble that it wouldn't be worth it for him."

The weight of the knife had more meaning. Prussia's shivering ceased and he felt his old confidence creeping back into him.

"Yeah…! He can't do it- not now!" A rebellious light flashed in Prussia's eyes. "He's got nothing now, so I can-"

The recognizable laugh of Russia rang out into the hall, escaping from the confines of the cafeteria. It was an amused giggle that surprised them all, but not as much as it did to see him emerge leaning into a smiling America. Prussia went mute as he spotted their contented expressions and began to have second thoughts. He recalled something that Russia had told him in their time spent alone, and it came back with meaning now.

 _Let's be friends. Stop acting like that is a bad thing._

America and Russia were happy. Prussia swallowed as guilt rose into his chest and he thought, _Do I really want to ruin that? Maybe… it isn't a bad thing. Russia is trying to change the negative feelings to positive ones. It is so important to him and other people... I can't say anything._

Russia noticed Prussia down the hall with Germany.

"Oh, Prussia!" he cried. "You missed lunch! Come here, come, come!"

He watched him expectantly. Prussia bit his lip when he looked at the others, before he whispered, " _Don't say anything_."

Prussia got up and headed over to Russia.

"Poor Prussia. You are very hungry, yes?" Russia asked.

Germany heard in shocked indignation, Prussia's reply, "Yeah, actually…"

"Okay, hold on. I will get you a big meal and some treats."

Russia was upset that he had gone to Germany, but when he had returned in a seemly friendly attitude, he relaxed. He gave him a closed-mouthed smile and offered him a hug which Prussia felt compelled to walk into. Russia's smile broadened when his invitation had been accepted, showing a flash of white teeth as he rubbed two circles into his back.

Prussia kept the hip with the knife turned out. When he felt Russia's hands coming close to it, he panicked and squeezed Russia tightly in hope of a certain reaction. His assumption proved true when Russia gasped joyfully and stopped to hold him tighter, his hands no longer creeping toward the location of the knife.

"Ah, Prussia..." Russia sighed blissfully. "I am very happy that you decided to give me a chance."

He stroked the back of his head before holding his arm gently and leading him into the cafeteria. America looked back but did not follow, instead directing himself back to the room to report to the others. He would have been fine doing it with Russia present, but when he returned by himself, he was set upon by different questions.

Britain approached him first. "What did you do with him?"

"Oh, uh- nothing. We talked."

"What about?" France prompted him.

Austria jumped in, "Did you give him trouble?"

"N-No, actually…" America murmured. "We just talked about some random things… We were getting along and laughed a bit. I'm starting to think that he isn't up to anything, and he only looked suspicious because he was trying too hard to be nice."

"So he doesn't have the knife?" Britain _hmm_ ed. "But then, who does? And how can we be sure?"

"He'll be back soon," America said. "But I have to tell you, I like the attitude he's got. He seems sincere about becoming everyone's friend... but of course I'll be watching out. I'm not one-hundred percent but at least with Russia wanting to be close to me, I'll be able to keep a closer eye on him."

China protested, "You better not just be doing this to spy on him! I know he wants to be your friend because he told me that. Don't play with his emotions."

"Whoa, whoa." America put his hands up. "Of course I want to be his friend! It's much better than being his enemy. He was being nice to me and such so I dig it, but it is still early so I'm gonna be somewhat cautious. I'm not going to fake it, I swear. I'll do my best to make this happen."

"But you trusted him enough to go back into the kitchen?" Cuba seemed hopeful with this question.

"Meh," America replied. "I saw Canada hiding in the caf but I don't think Russia did. Besides, he took Prussia with him."

The door was pushed open and there was a collective gasp. With damaged limbs hanging limply and shredded like those of a battered scarecrow, Germany leaned against the door frame bent forward in exhaustion of completing the marathon of the hall. Everyone was stunned to see the powerful figure he had been reduced to this, yet the strength in his eyes remained and was recognized in the glare he shot around the room.

"Russia is hiding something," Germany uttered as Italy and Japan appeared like twin guards behind him. "He has been threatening Prussia to keep silent."

Ukraine looked to the side and shrunk away from attention. The trio of Belarus, China, and Cuba reacted defensively.

"Stop accusing him!" Belarus snarled.

"He saved you," Cuba spoke up, "but because it was him and not America, you keep forgetting that! I feel for Russia, having to deal with your constant ingratitude."

America raised a hand, the signal for the others to hush up. They went quiet as America asked, "What makes you think that?"

"Prussia said so. He would not tell me what Russia was keeping secret, but he said that if he told anyone, Russia would attack someone close to him."

America's eyes widened. "Wha- no way! No way he did that- Russia… he couldn't be so dumb to pull this bullshit when trying to befriend me!"

"You just let Russia off alone with him again!" Germany snapped. "Imagine what is happening now! You have to help my brother!"

"Canada's there," America rushed to respond. "If- _if_ Russia is really doing these things, then Canada will tell us. And if he tries to hurt Prussia, then Canada would also step in to help him."

"If?" Germany uttered. "There is no _if_. Prussia is not lying."

America thought back to his time with Russia in the kitchen and hesitated. The feeling of his hugs still lingered and his smiles were flashing images in his mind. He did not want to believe that Russia was dangerous, an enemy to still be despised. Not when he had enjoyed the new friendship with Russia so much more.

 _Prussia does hate Russia_ , America thought. _It is possible that he wants to turn me against him…_

"We'll see," America answered Germany. "Maybe Russia won't do anything bad at all. Maybe… we should give him a chance."

Now it was Germany who hesitated. He recalled some of Prussia's words and it made him reconsider intervening.

"Prussia said… Russia is planning to befriend us all."

America countered, "Then what's the problem with that?"

"Russia's methods."

"I bet you anything," he told him, "that Prussia's alright right now."

Germany had endured enough standing. He limped into the room and went to collapse into a slump alongside Austria and Hungary. No one knew where to go from this and so they fell into quietude, watching the door until Russia materialized there with Prussia's hand clasped in his.

"Germany!" Russia let loose his excited cry. "You came! And Italy and Japan!" He settled down and smiled. "How pleasant. Everyone is here now."

He let go of Prussia and looked around the room. Russia deadpanned then snapped his head to America.

"Where is Canada?" he uttered.

America's first instinct was to lie, but he decided not to.

"I saw him spying on us in the cafeteria, but I didn't send him. He must have come on his own."

Russia felt a current of anger, but it slithered away as he judged America and believed he was being honest.

"Well, maybe he will trust me more after what he saw," Russia murmured. "I hope he wants to be my friend too."

He watched Prussia slinking away and reaching Germany, but he did not mind so much now that Germany had come to his room. Russia as well, took pleasure in seeing Prussia wearing the sweater with the Russian flags on it, seeing it as Prussia providing advertisement to his good intentions.

The screen holding the ended pinball game was left unattended and Russia now cast his attention upon it. He commented, "There are still many more games to play. I think some can be doing this while we get dinner, right?"

America caught on to how he had said "we" this time. His heart wavered in a satisfied and excited flutter, then he was to first to head to the doorway. Russia hopped over to him and for the first time, they traveled to the kitchen side-by-side. Just at the doorway to the cafeteria however, they nearly collided with Canada, who was startled and jumped back.

"Oh hello, Canada," Russia purred. "So you were spying on us. Was it interesting?"

"I'm sorry," replied Canada out of instinct.

When Canada's arms dangled at his sides like that, it made him seem more vulnerable. Russia stepped forward and Canada was sucked into a hug before he could react. Russia's smile grew as he rocked them side-to-side while humming.

"No more of that, okay?" Russia told him. "It is rude."

Canada peeked over at America. He saw him nodding, so Canada replied, "Alright…"

"You must mean it. Can you promise?" Russia tapped his spine with a few fingers.

America nodded again. Canada exhaled, "Yes, I promise I'll stop spying on you."

Russia's nose tickled his cheek and there was a delighted sound by his ear. Closed lips touched his cheek and Canada gasped. He began to protest, "Did you just-"

"You are good friend, Canada."

He dabbed the other side of his face. Canada's shock lessened however as he began remembering what Russia had told America. He still could not understand though, and he was made uncomfortable. He pulled away and asked, "How is what you are doing allowed?"

"You are family now, I feel. Everyone is family now and I love them," Russia replied. "Besides, it is not lover's kiss. Are you having trouble finding the difference? There is an important one. My mouth is not open. You can do this back to me in this way."

 _Part of his family?_ Canada thought. He did not feel as though he was, nor did he believe he wanted to be. America shrugged behind Russia to him, signaling that he did not have to take Russia's words so seriously.

"It's harmless," America told him. "I honestly much prefer this to how it was before."

"If you say so…" Canada murmured back.

"I hope you will get used to this and come to me on your own." Russia let Canada go free. "Letting go of old feelings is better."

They started heading off, leaving Canada in the spot where he was frozen. Russia added during his departure however, "Just so you are knowing, I like receiving more than giving! It is much more meaningful to me."

Canada watched them disappear into the kitchen before he floated away. Alone now, America glanced at the spot for the missing knife then at Russia as he opened up the fridge. He strode over to his side and looked in with him, explaining, "We thought that we'll have enough for two more days."

"We'll be out about then, I am thinking," Russia said. "Help will come, or we will get out ourselves. We did good work today."

"Yeah, we did."

Together they put containers and leftover fruit and vegetables onto the counter to divide up into portions.

"Do you think we should give people different amounts to save food?" America wondered. "I mean, some of us are working all day while the others are just resting."

"It should be okay." Russia nodded. "But not too much less."

"Of course."

"Well, maybe except for Latvia. He is very small."

America laughed in an exhale. They portioned as planned and worked peacefully, no longer pushing each other out of the way in competition. Russia stood beside him and relaxed as they both watched the food turning in the microwave.

"Do you want tea, America?" Russia asked suddenly. "There is some black tea here."

"Erm, I'm more of a coffee person. Besides, black tea is strong."

"Oh but, sweetened of course. We have lots of sugar here and it would be good with the tea."

"How much sugar are we talking about?" America smirked.

"Hmm, I like putting a lot in the black tea. It makes it very tasty. You will try it, yes? It is popular thing to do here at my place."

America shrugged. "Well, if it's to try out another culture, then why not."

Russia perked up in excitement. "You want to try my culture?"

America smiled softly, feeling good that he had yet again triggered such joy in him.

"Sure," he said. "It's fun."

Russia glided to a cabinet and grabbed a pot. It was filled with water, lidded, and placed onto the burner which Russia turned to high.

"You can't tell Britain though," Russia chuckled. "He doesn't like that I sweeten the tea as much as I do!"

By the time they had served everyone, the water was boiling. America leaned over the counter and dug into his food as Russia set the tea to steep. While they waited, they finished their meals then went back and gathered the dishes of whoever was done. Russia poured the tea into mugs, drowned spoonfuls of sugar in them, then left them to cool off while he did the dishes with America. He washed; America dried, and they worked at a rhythm so harmonious that the job was soon done.

Russia dried off his hands then fetched America one of the mugs. He waited until Russia had his, then they both sipped their tea simultaneously.

"Not bad." America nodded. "Sweet, so right up my alley."

Russia swayed in delight. He drank from his deeply and savored the sweetness, one that was welcomed as a treat for everything he felt had gone right.

"I am happy to hear that," Russia sighed over the steam of his cup.

He shifted ever so slightly closer, just enough so that their sides touched. America did not move away and so it was enough. Russia felt such warmth inside from more than the tea and he started imagining what more they could do together. His heart soared at just the thought of the cookies they were going to bake, but even more so at the additional ideas he grasped.

Russia kept his plans to himself and when they were done drinking, they fetched the last of the dishes and washed them. After, they went about their baking. All was to be done by a recipe of Russia's memory, and so America went about and helped gather and measure whatever was needed. He had wondered about Prussia before, but now he forgot about Germany's woes entirely as the baking took a fun turn.

America had started a game where they would taste the mixture every time they had added something to the mixing bowl. Russia protested playfully but was excited even they tasted the pure mixture of butter and sugar. It escalated, until flour was sprinkled into hair and eyelashes, egg shell chips were stuck to faces, and then Russia tried piling as many chocolate chips as he could onto America's head.

"It looks like you were outside," America laughed.

"Mmm," Russia smiled, blinking his flour-dusted eyelashes in amusement. America stood still as another chocolate chip was balanced on his head. Russia leaned back to observe the hill he had going then recommenced adding. In a few seconds, some chips rolled off and hit the floor, and once seen, America dove to collect them, causing the rest to fall.

"Oh, I would have liked to have picture of that," Russia sighed with a smile.

America popped the chocolate chips into his mouth and responded, "Me too, but of your make-over!"

Without ruining his make-up, Russia hugged America then rubbed flour from the counter onto his nose. He took some more then painted floury war stripes across his cheeks, both of them smiling and laughing softly at each antic.

"I like not being serious," Russia murmured in bliss. "Can we do this more often?"

America regarded the jocund sparkles in his eyes that he was not accustomed to seeing. They made him trust him more, giving him more proof that Russia truly was happy and not hiding heinous intentions.

"Yeah." America nodded. "Let's just do these things instead from now on."

In elation, Russia gasped. He as well enjoyed the brightness in America's gaze that revealed how glad he was that they had ended up here. For the first time in a long time, he felt that his "love" was requited. He wanted to hug him forever and be hugged back, close, warm, and trusting. He remembered touching his face when America had been unconscious in the chair, but the idea of being allowed to caress his face and have it enjoyed, was an entirely different feeling. His heart simmered then melted, and his eyes fell half-shut.

America did not think it was possible, but Russia looked even happier. Even when he went on to beat the final mixture and put globs onto two trays, Russia kept looking at him contentedly. The trays were set into the oven, then they washed themselves off. Russia even had to put his head under the tap to get the flour out from his hair, which then he vigorously dried with a tea towel.

"We got like ten minutes." America leaned nonchalantly over the bowl with a teaspoon. "What should we do?"

He stuck some cookie dough into his mouth. Russia smiled and replied, "I want to see what everyone is up to."

"Kay."

The time on the oven clock was checked before they left together. America peeked toward the vending machine Canada had hid behind before but did not see him there now. When they entered the room, Canada was found there playing Tetris and assumingly against Ukraine, for she was so focused on his score. Both were standing and leaning forward with full concentration on the game while the swivel chair was abandoned behind them, claimed by Latvia who lay sideways in it with his legs over the arm.

Russia inhaled in glee that Tetris was being played. The music sounding throughout the room was nostalgic and forced him to come closer. Russia touched both their backs and looked between their shoulders to see how well Canada was faring. Ukraine stiffened but Canada did not react as Russia stayed for a bit, humming the song and watching Canada eliminating line after line.

When he left them, he put his attention next onto Latvia. He grasped one of the feet sticking up and bobbed it. A gasp escaped Latvia when he saw Russia there, and he jolted up into a sitting position. Russia frowned and asked, "What is it?"

"N-n-nothing."

"You're funny, Latvia."

Russia smiled and took hold of the arm of the chair. He gave it a little shove so that the chair spun in a slow circle. Latvia went around with huge, frightened eyes until he was facing Russia again.

"Is it fun? Do you want me to spin you?"

"N-no… thank you."

America watched closely and was disappointed by the fear apparent in Latvia. Since their talk, America had known Russia to be gentle in his affection, so he was surprised that Latvia could not see that he was safe. Sympathy rose as America understood now how Russia must have been feeling, rejected as Latvia failed to take the opportunity provided.

Russia was indeed, saddened and especially so since he had saved Latvia from Belarus. He did leave him alone however, to abandon the room and go back to the kitchen with America. There, America attempted to get the smile back on his face, missing it already.

"Aren't you cold?" America asked.

Russia was still in a T-shirt but shook his head. America touched his arms and found that the skin was cold to the touch, at least in his opinion. He pinned his arms to his sides and hugged Russia tightly, igniting a smile and provoking a nuzzle.

"I like having you as friend," Russia sighed. "I did not know you could be so sweet."

"Same," America laughed. "You're great when you're chill!"

America rubbed warmth into his arms and Russia's eyelids quivered like his heart. Before, he would not have been willing to close his eyes around America, but now he relished submitting into trust and being rewarded for it. This was how they spent those last few minutes until the cookies were taken out and put on a rack to cool. Russia ached when he left, feeling so cold alone once more. He tried to stay close as America worked, and once two more filled trays were put in, he was overjoyed to be held again.

"You really like this," America chuckled. "I can tell. You're following me like a puppy and I see how close you try to get to everyone."

"I am not used to getting hugs. I really like them though and wish I could have more."

Russia buried his face into his hair and limpened. America's arms tightened around his waist, his hands clasped to each other and rested on the bump of his hip. In the silence, he occasionally readjusted his hold and each time Russia would nuzzle him with his nose. Footsteps were heard too late, and Britain popped into the kitchen while they were still embracing. His thick eyebrows shot up and his eyes went wide in his startlement.

"I would never doubt him, but Canada was right!" Britain gasped.

America let go of Russia to ask, "What do you mean?"

"Why are you so close to Russia all of a sudden? You were just hating him an hour ago!"

"You don't want me to be friends with him?"

"There's being friends," Britain replied, "but then there's… what you're doing. You're awfully close to him."

"So? We're just being friendly." America scoffed. "Guys can do this without it meaning anything. Get with the times!"

"That's not my problem…" Britain's voice lowered, although Russia could evidently hear him. "You shouldn't just trust Russia so suddenly and completely. I know it seems like a dream come true and you want to have peace, but this is Russia and throughout history he has been…"

"You don't think I want peace too?" Russia muttered. "I wasn't sure if America would trust me, but I am happy he changed his mind. I am also happy I decided to trust him too. We are having lots of fun and there is no reason for me to ruin this."

"Be careful, America," Britain advised.

"Whatever," America sighed. "Did you come here for anything else? Do you need my help?"

"No… I was just intending to check on you."

Russia turned his head and smiled. "Would you like to be my friend too? I will give you hug."

"We could be friends without that," Britain quickly replied as Russia walked toward him.

"But then what would separate friends from acquaintances?" Russia enclosed him in his arms and continued his dialogue into his crown. "We should trust each other and be happy in company."

"Let go of me!" Britain cried.

America sighed, "Just hug him back. He's not doing anything."

Britain wiggled out however and stood back, hair and clothes ruffled. He huffed, "I don't know what's gotten into you, America! You know how he is but you decided to forget it because you want to chase after this dream! You must have less brain matter than before if you can no longer sense it. I can though, feel something still in Russia- a darkness lying in wait to attack. All you have to do is piss him off and he'll go bonkers!"

Russia exclaimed, "Why are you so mean, Britain? We were having much fun and you are trying to ruin it now!"

He did not want to talk anymore. Britain spun around and limped away to leave them as they were. Russia swallowed and felt a heaviness in his chest, but then America started offering condolences.

"I'm sorry…" America sighed. "I was being such a douche to you earlier and I said some things about you to them. They believed it and now they won't stop thinking bad stuff about you."

"It's okay," Russia mumbled. "Everyone will be my friend soon enough..."

"Here. How about we start handing out cookies to show everyone what we did together?" America suggested.

Russia nodded enthusiastically but insisted, "We have to taste them first, to see if they are good enough!"

"Right!" America skipped over to the rack and crammed one into his mouth. He gave Russia a firm thumbs up then proclaimed, "We're good!"

Russia got a large plate and started piling the first round on. They had enough time, so they hurried back to everyone and handed out one each. No one turned down the offer and Russia was thrilled by their delight in biting into such warm and tender cookies. America sided him so that all would see and be surprised by what they had done, and so that they could receive their thanks together.

America could hear little hums of contentedness in his exhales. Russia's eyes shone whenever someone took a cookie and thanked them for it. America finished off the plate and when there was nothing left to give, they strode back to the kitchen and dealt with next round to go into the oven.

"Will we play games when we get back?" Russia asked.

"Sure. Which one?"

Russia considered chess, but decided he did not want to do anything so competitive with America where their intelligences would be pitted against one another.

"We'll see." Russia shrugged.

The next trays went in then they stood waiting for a minute, left with their own thoughts. It was a boring and slightly awkward affair, thus they gravitated back to conversation and to each other.

"Let's do something," Russia decided. "We have more cookies to make and the standing is boring."

Russia walked over to the counter nearest the door where no one had worked before. The floor was clean, so he slid down and called over America. He looked around then headed over to him, sitting down and asking, "What do you got?"

"Do you like stories? If we are going to be here for another half an hour, do you want to hear one?"

"Oh, sure. What kind of story?"

Russia offered, "Real story, or fictional one?"

"Um, fiction."

"Then how about a fairy tale, one of mine. It should kill some time."

"Go for it."

Russia shifted closer to him. "Have you heard of Baba Yaga?"

"Who-a-what-a?"

"Okay, I will tell you a story with Baba Yaga."

America hoped that no one else was going to come into the kitchen to "check" on them. He felt a tad embarrassed to be on the floor, pressed against Russia, listening to his story. It wasn't that he did not enjoy it, but based on Britain's previous reaction he knew that what they were doing now would stir gossip and unnecessary drama.

Russia spoke slowly and clearly, and the accent that had peeved him before became charming. America liked the life it splashed the text with and how it seemed to provide a portal right into the older times. It made him remember how much older Russia was than him, how much he had experienced before he had even existed. America became increasingly more intrigued, until his mind found an ancient, Slavic forest to creep through with unknown danger and darkness on all sides. He put his head on Russia's shoulder and realized that in such a forest, he could believe that the witch Baba Yaga existed somewhere, as he thought that perhaps a younger Russia had also.

Russia closed his eyes and murmured more of the story into his hair. Little shivers skittered down America's back as the voice led him further into the fantasy. He imagined the girl taken to the witch's hut, seeing it through omnipotent eyes. He watched the witch command her serving-maid to prepare the bath-house, so that the girl could be clean when she ate her for breakfast. America was there in every scene, so deeply detached from this world that he was startled when Russia exclaimed, "Oh, it is time!"

Russia hopped up and hurried to the oven. He took out the trays and set the cookies to cool. America hugged a knee while he waited for Russia to return. Such relief washed over him when Russia's side and voice became available to him once more. This time, Russia's arm made its way around him during the story, daring yet finding itself unchallenged. America did not mind it there; he only felt warmer. He did not care either, when Russia as unobtrusively as possible, adjusted them so that America's head was against his chest.

His heartbeat thudded against his ear, a soothing rhythm to accompany the story. America went limp into him and enjoyed the hand now brushing his hair, fingers that sought tangles and eliminated them. Even when his hair was smooth, the hand still caressed from his crown to the bottom of his neck. America sighed and Russia continued with little glimmers of tears in his eyes.

" _The witch rushed into the hut and saw that the girl was gone. She gave the cat a good beating and scolded her for not scratching out the girl's eyes. But the cat answered her, 'I've served you for years, yet you've never even given me a bone, but she gave me some ham_.'"

Russia flashed a hand up to his face to catch a tear before it landed on America.

" _Baba Yaga then turned on the dogs, the gates, the birch tree and the serving-maid, and set to hitting and scolding them all. The dogs said to her, 'We've served you for years. You've never even thrown us a burnt crust, but she gave us fresh rolls.' And the gates said, 'We've served you for years, yet you've never even poured water on our hinges, but she oiled them for us.'_ "

Russia could hardly take it. He tried keeping his voice as normal as he could, in order to not show how the story was shaking him.

" _And... the birch tree said, 'I've served you for years, yet you've never even tied me up with thread, but she tied me with a ribbon.' Then, the serving-maid told her, 'I've served you for years, yet you've never even given me a rag, but she gave me a kerchief!_ '"

His ribs trembled. The heartbeat bounced and America lifted his head as Russia looked to the side.

"Dude, what is it?"

"Sorry… I thought of something."

"What?"

"Ah, the cookies…"

Russia jumped up and rushed to the oven, not letting America see his face. The oven mittens were slipped on before he lifted a shoulder and dabbed one eye, then the other as he opened the oven door. America bit his lip and stood during the time Russia realized it was too early to take out these cookies. He closed the oven hesitantly and sighed, "Well, that was the end of the story. I hope you liked it."

"It was good," America murmured back. "I'm more familiar with the tamed versions of German fairy tales so… it was interesting."

"Yes.. I… wanted to share this one. It makes me, hmm... happy. I like how the witch's things, the cat, dogs, gate… they were all supposed to do bad thing but then, they were nice when the girl was nice to them."

America fell silent as he realized the depth of what Russia had said. He grasped the hint he was providing, of how their friendship was forming in this way. Another pang squeezed America's chest and he approached Russia, lunging and hugging him tightly. Russia wrapped his arms around him and swallowed.

"Oh... I don't want to let you go," Russia murmured. "I don't want to hate you ever again. I want us to work together, be happy, be strong… Nothing more but love. I want us all to be one- a family. You could be my brother… I don't have one of those. I would be very happy to think of you as that."

"My brother?" America whispered. "Really? You want that?"

"Mm-hmm. And I would be yours."

"Oh wow… " America exhaled. "You… as my bro… I never would have thought of that before."

"What do you think?" Russia whispered, anxious.

America smiled. "Ukraine and Belarus would be my sisters… oh my."

"And maybe Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia…" Russia whispered. "Whoever is willing."

"Yeah," he breathed back.

Russia said, "And Canada would be my little brother."

"Oh, ha- yeah. I wonder what he'll think about that."

"So?"

"Yes," America replied. "Let's do it."

A gasp, then multiple dry kiss-taps all over his face.

"My boss is going to be so happy!"

America grinned, "Oh, mine too definitely."

Russia spun them in a circle. " _Moy brat… Akh, moy brat…_!" he cried.

When he had spun them close to the oven, Russia let go and took out the last of the cookies. The already-cooled ones went onto a plate and the fresh ones were left on the rack. Together they gave out more cookies, then more again, until only a few were left for them.

"So you like chocolate chip cookies?" America asked.

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Yeah, I just never really thought that you liked these things."

Russia took a bite of one and chuckled, "Because I only live off vodka, right?"

"And cabbage," America snickered. "Vodka, cabbage, and animal fat!"

"Oh yes, there is good recipe for that."

"Are you joking?"

"Maybe."

America bent sideways over the counter and laughed. Russia smiled into the next bite of his cookie. They swiftly made short work of them all and then, after rinsing out their mouths, they popped gum in. Russia patted his pocket, remembered the pack he had stored there, and announced, "Ah yes. I forgot to pass out the gum to the others."

America grabbed another two packs and they set out for the room to now fill every expectant hand with a piece. They cleaned the kitchen, noticed the late time displayed on the clock, and decided that they were going to stay in for the night. Russia fetched mugs of water for everyone's use, and then they were back in the room.

Already some were lying down, spitting their gum into their wrappers and getting ready to rest. The chair in front of the computer was opened up as Poland crawled away from it, so America skittered in and proclaimed, "One game! Before we go to bed."

Eyes looked up to behold for themselves the developing bond between Russia and America. America plopped into the chair and Russia pressed into it, bending forward to wrap his arms around America's neck and cross them. "Tetris?" America challenged. Russia nodded into his neck. The game began and many forgot to sleep, so stunned they were, and unable to pull their eyes away from what was before them.

"Careful!" Russia teased.

"Shht! Don't mess me up!"

Russia grinned and blew on his neck. America stiffened and tried to concentrate harder, but then Russia freed a hand to graze his fingertips lightly over his skin.

"Cheater!" America gasped. "You're going to make me lose!"

Russia tittered and put his arm back around him. He calmed and watched him play until he lost on his own. They switched places and America put his hands on Russia's shoulders, warning him that revenge was going to be taken. Partway through Russia's turn, his attempts to distract Russia began. He did not go far before Russia gasped and yanked his scarf tight to his skin.

"No…" he murmured. "Not there."

America had been startled by his gasp, so he gave up his attempt and only hugged around his neck as he had to him. He watched Russia beat his high score, and he complained playfully, "Oh come on! Not fair!"

Russia sang, "But it is my game!"

He hummed the theme as he kept going, right up until he eventually lost from some misplaced blocks. He made a kissing sound at his own score, then closed everything up. He logged off the computer, shut off the monitor, then stood and stretched.

"I'll be back!" Russia chirped.

He left the room. In about an instant in being left alone with America, many sprang forth and a storm of questions slapped him.

Austria cried, "What are you planning to do?"

"Huh?"

America spun around when Canada addressed him, "Hey so, about Prussia…"

Britain grabbed him by the shoulder. "You better have a real reason you're doing this!"

America's hands went up as he was overwhelmed. Germany was now growling, "I told you what he did to Prussia, and now you're getting treating him like that? You have to do something!"

Many nodded in agreement, remembering what Germany had said when he had limped into this room. America shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He let out an exasperated sigh then demanded of Canada, "Hey. Did Russia do anything to Prussia, or did he not?"

"He… fed him."

"Prussia!" America pointed at him. Prussia's eyes flew open and he sat up. "You've been quiet. What should I do with Russia?"

Prussia looked to the side. "Just be his friend… It's all he wants."

"Is he posing a danger to anyone in this room?" America asked them all.

Silence. America breathed out deeply and said, "Now, does anyone have a knife to return so that we can stop blaming Russia? I won't be mad, but it's just getting ridiculous so give it up already."

Prussia looked down. He thought of the cozy sweater he was in, but also of his airways being constricted, his system blackening out from drugs, and Russia's strike to his head. Prussia recalled Russia's smiles and laughter, his hugs and caresses, and everything that made him want to keep quiet and let Russia get what he wanted. Yet with this horrible mixture, of fear and support, Prussia just could not bring himself to reveal his knife.

He caught Germany staring at him. His blue eyes of utter seriousness told him not to, because Russia still needed to be distrusted. Germany did not like how much America had submitted to Russia and so he wanted this one thing to remain, a lasting doubt to keep him alert.

"I think we have to be kinder," America continued when no one came forward. "I never realized but, he is quite affectionate if you treat him right. He is opening himself to us and we should take advantage of this. We need to be open-minded. He saved us, provided for us, treated our wounds, and is trying to demonstrate caring. I made the mistake of ignoring this and holding onto old feelings. I am sorry if I influenced you but, don't you think it's time to move on?"

He wanted to let that sink in. America departed the room and entered the washroom, finding Russia there washing his hands.

"See you soon!" Russia smiled at him before pulling open the door.

America watched him go, hoping sincerely that he was not going to be bothered back in the room. He hurried to return, and when he had, was glad to find that Russia was left undisturbed and lying behind the desk in the corner. It made him decide not to tell him about what had just happened, and that someone was still refusing to return the knife. He did not want to cause anymore drama when they were trying to settle down to sleep.

America went back and closed the door to hold the heat of the bodies in this room. He left the light on then went back over to Russia. He too removed his shoes then knelt down first, before giving into Russia's smile, shining eyes, and open arms. He dropped in despite the jealous look Belarus was now shooting at him, lying over him and warming his arms. She stayed back, allowing Russia to croon in Russian and rub all over his back in tranquility.

"This is good," Russia breathed. "We will cuddle now, _da_?"

America sat up. "Hold on," he said, removing his suit. He lay onto his back then invited him, "Here. This should be better."

Russia slid in and America draped the suit over his back and arms like it was a little blanket. His head was set over America's chest as he lay mostly on his side, holding onto him like a body pillow. His heart pattered as he heard America's, reveling in the proof of his life. Here Russia could be sure that it was the same- that America had a need for love and had an ability to love. In this way they both ached for this peace, for this gentleness, instead of for continued hostility.

America felt vastly warmer than last night and much more comfortable here on the carpet, lying down with this heavy blanket over him. He put his hand over Russia's head and pet his hair, amazed by how much softer it was than it had appeared. America pressed some locks between his fingers and regarded them with interest, letting it sink in that he was really there right now.

The hand rested to the side as America sighed, "Goodnight, bro."

He closed his eyes while Russia stilled and mumbled back, " _Spokoynoy nochi…_ "

The heartbeat slowed and Russia's matched it, every bit of him relaxing. His breaths deepened and slowed, and America's did as well. Weights attached themselves to Russia's eyelids and he sank into the lingering scent of AXE deodorant, the soft cloth of his shirt, and most importantly, into him.

His new best friend.

* * *

 **Black Tea with lots of sugar in it is, according to Himaruya, a Russian thing. I can attest to this as my Russian friend offered me tea and I had some, only to find that it was indeed black tea with a lot of sugar in it.**

 **Tetris: a game created by Russia in the Soviet Union that became popular in America. The theme for Tetris is based off the Russian folk song korobeiniki (korobushka).**


	11. Красный- Red

America woke to a strange and faint mewling sound. At first, his groggy mind believed there was a cat in the room. He grunted in pain when he felt nails digging into his side, then his eyes shot open to find no cat at all, but Russia clinging tightly to him. It all rushed back then. America's expression softened as he gazed at his rigid yet slightly shivering form. He wondered if Russia was cold, but when he made another distressed sound in his throat, America understood.

One hand caressed Russa's back and the other pulled and pet his hair. Russia's grasp loosened immediately and he stilled. No more sounds were emitted as his breathing returned to its normal, deep rate. America continued on for a little longer still, making sure that all the bad dreams were chased away before he stopped. He soon fell back asleep and for the rest of the night, he remained undisturbed.

America woke up at the first sounds of movement. Germany untangled himself from Italy and glanced over at him with a displeased expression before patting Prussia. Russia mumbled something and rose off him, allowing America to sit up fully. The suit slid off him and instantly Russia felt the chill on his arms. He had grown so accustomed to America's warmth that he inhaled in shock. He put the suit back over his body then pressed into America while he was still there.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to sleep?" Russia murmured. "I think it's still early."

There was a heaviness to his body and it felt as though the rings under his eyes had been cut there by knives. Russia was tired and wanted to stay with America for as long as possible, but America stretched then rubbed his eyes vigorously.

"Hmm, I don't really want to waste any time," America replied. "I want to get digging again. I saw the second floor and there might be a gap to break into."

"But America, I don't think there are windows there."

"On the second floor? Why not?

"I don't know. It is strange building."

Russia put his head on his shoulder to deter any suspicion from forming against him. Their straight arms touched as America sighed, "We have to look. If there's nothing, we will keep going up. There was a window in that meeting room so eventually we're going to find another one."

"Are you sure you don't want to dig for the front door?" Russia whispered, posing the question as gently as he could.

"You could help me, you know," America said, also making a conscious effort to be quiet and amiable.

"No…"

"Then we'll just keep doing what we're doing, just…"

"Hmm?"

"Don't make anyone work if they are too injured."

"They are okay," Russia told him. "How about Britain and France? Aren't they too injured to work?"

"They wanted to help."

"Oh but, it is the same way with me."

"Fair enough."

America stood up, not seeing how dismayed Russia was looking up at him. Russia frowned and rose too, a few joints in his legs cracking. He passed America's suit to him, who slipped it on smoothly before going to the desk and sipping some water. They could see that their talking and movement, although quiet, were waking the others up one-by-one. America intended to make breakfast preparations and when they were ready to go, Russia followed.

"So uh, what were you dreaming of last night?" America asked out of curiosity.

"Hmm, I don't remember. And you, America?"

"Oh." Then he laughed. "I was paintballing. With Canada and Britain, France… A bunch of people. I was really good so I kicked ass and won."

America did not mention him, so Russia did not feel the need to ask if he had been there. He fell into silence until America sighed, "Can we talk again? There's something I want to tell you…"

Russia perked up from his slightly nervous tone. "Of course," he murmured. "I am listening."

"I uh... wasn't being honest before when we met at the door…" America looked down now, unable to meet his eyes. "I was purposely being mean to you. It didn't feel right though, when I did it then. And because it didn't feel right, I was afraid. Afraid to like you and be nice to you, in case it made me weak."

Russia's expression went blank as he observed America carefully. He had not expected a conversation so serious this early in the morning.

"Part of me thought that there was something behind your smile, your friendship bread and stuff," America went on. "So that if I liked you, I would stop being cautious and it would undo me. I made myself take every opportunity to be mean, to push you down… but I only got more afraid because what I did felt wrong. Sometimes I was mad, but then after I felt so mixed-up and I just tried to hide it. Was I reading too much into the situation? I didn't know. I wanted to keep making you an enemy because it made me feel safe, you know? Then I wouldn't get close to you and everyone would be there to support me..."

"America…" Russia whispered.

"But when you gave me Belarus's knife and what you said to me… It reminded me that I was mistrusting you on purpose. Okay, granted- you were being suspicious but still, I shouldn't have treated you as I did. I wanted so much for you to be innocent so when I was in the kitchen with you, and we actually talked… I couldn't bring myself to be harsh anymore after that. I like being your friend. It's not like Britain said, chasing a dream… it's real."

"Yes, yes…" Russia nodded and met his anguished gaze. "I am not going to hurt you. We are friends now and I promise that I love you."

"You said that before." America let out a shaky laugh and pulled open the microwave before it beeped. "I don't know but, in English that's a strong word. You say that to me in front of the others, and they'll think weird things."

"Do you think weird things?"

"No… I know what you're trying to say. You just care about me. Everyone."

"Good… but when I kiss you?"

"Okay, that's weird. But… you said to Canada that there was a difference so, I get it too."

The microwave was started up again. Russia moved closer still, asking, "Do you? Does it make you feel better to know that I will do this to anyone here? I am not thinking of anything but the family kind of love."

"It does, but I figured that already," America replied.

"As long as you understand…"

Russia faced him. America pressed back into the counter as Russia stepped in and put his arms around him loosely. He kept silent now, while Russia gave his face those little touches of soft warmth. America opened his eyes now and then, catching sight of his gentle smile before he closed his eyes again.

"I can't tell how you feel," Russia stopped and sighed. "Are you happy? Do you hate them?"

"It's fine." America's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I mean, no one is this nice to me so it's… fine."

"But you don't kiss me back…" Russia frowned. "You must not like it."

"No, no- it's just not my thing, you know?" America panicked, not sure how in the world he should properly respond to this. "Your culture's a lot more huggier and kissier than mine so… it's strange for me to do it."

Russia was not cheered up in anyway so America knew he had not answered right. Russia drew back as America set the next plate aside and put the next in. America watched the plate turning for a few seconds, sighed, then turned back. He summoned up enough determination to catch Russia's face gently with one hand to try and improve the mood. America tried to imagine Russia as a family member as he touched his cheek with his face, giving him a forceless peck then asking him, "Like that?"

Russia gasped and nodded quickly. His eyes were as bright as last night and he was nearly bouncing in glee. America became quite amused and he could not help but admit to himself that it had not been as bad as he had thought it would be. Not when Russia was not acting strange about it, but changing its meaning into a platonic one.

Those eyes did not cease to sparkle in the light like vivid, purple gems. America had never considered his eyes before so seriously, but now proclaimed, "Your eyes are cool, dude!"

Russia blushed. "What? You think this?"

"Yeah, unique! I like them."

"A lot of people like us have the purple colour though."

"I know."

The hue of pink on Russia's cheeks made him seem all the more innocent. All the feelings of hatred, suspicion, and caution faded away as he pulled Russia back in for another hug. America smiled as he was gifted with the affection that no one else had wanted or had been willing to give him. He realized then, that there had been something within him that had needed to be filled, something he had not known had been empty. And Russia provided at every opportunity.

Eventually they served out breakfast in rounds once the counter had become too full. They took the cups from last night, and Russia started refilling them as America went back with more food. Once he was alone however, Russia grabbed the already-opened water bottle from the back of the fridge. He grabbed a black mug, filled it with the cold water, then left it in the corner. Russia threw the bottle into the recycling before hurrying to fill the other cups and some new ones with tap water, then put them out in front.

There was only one black mug, so it was easily recognizable. America came in, and they both carried off random cups to the room. Russia took over the corner so that America would not give Prussia the wrong one, but when they returned to the kitchen, America took hold of the black mug's handle.

Russia inhaled. "Oh wait!" he exclaimed.

Russia rushed to fetch the remaining bit of sugar. He poured some from the bag straight into the mug, then explained, "Prussia is always tired. I want him to have some sugar and maybe it will give him energy?"

"Alright."

"Yes, that one is Prussia's."

America nodded and carried off as many cups as he could back to the room. Russia did the same, watching to make sure America did as he was told. From the corner of his eye he watched nervously, but America did extend the black mug out and into Prussia's waiting hands. When Prussia grasped it, Russia relaxed in an instant as he felt that now his day could proceed as normal.

Yet unbeknownst to Russia, the moment Prussia had taken the mug, he had felt the chill against his palms. He tried to remain poker-faced and ignorant, although he remembered well how cold the water had been the last time Russia had given him a cup. Prussia thanked America then pretended to glance around the room as though to see what the others were doing. That was how he noticed Russia standing and inconspicuously spying on him.

 _He definitely drugged it…_ Prussia looked away from him before his eyes lingered too long. _It's colder than it should be… from the fridge. One of those water bottles that he gave me before. They're all drugged_.

Prussia took hold of the mug and calmly pretended to drink it. He kept his lips tightly closed and swallowed his spit. Russia saw the bob of his Adam's apple and appeared satisfied, and when he turned away, Prussia put the mug to his side and wiped the cold water from his lips.

 _Damn him… I have to get rid of this! He'll be collecting the dishes soon and if he sees that I didn't drink the water…_

When Russia and America left the room to finally take care of themselves, Prussia jumped up with the mug and hurried to the door without providing an explanation. Germany perked up just as Prussia was peeking out and looking both ways. He was about to call out to him, but then he rushed out the door before he had the chance to. All Germany could do now was look after him, then turn to mutter to Japan, "He doesn't look injured… He just ran."

"Hmm. That is strange," Japan responded. "Maybe he has somewhere important to go..."

And he had been referring to the washroom, which was where Prussia had headed although for a different reason entirely. There, Prussia had dashed to the sink to dump the cold water down the drain. The cup was turned upside-down and a large backsplash came up and struck him in the face, burning him with a chill. He wasted no time to mind this. Prussia glimpsed his own terrified expression in the mirror just before he leapt back and grabbed the door handle.

He sprang into the hall, desperately trying to get back into the room before Russia could know of his absence. He had just about made it before a voice chirped out merrily to him and froze his heart.

"Oh Prussia, look at how fast you are moving!"

Russia's eyes went from the mug to Prussia's face. Prussia's eyes widened as Russia put on a pseudo smile and approached him with it.

"Are you feeling better already?"

America came up behind him, carrying his own meal as Russia did his. One hand was occupied by a plate, the other a cup, but Russia still came in singing to him, "Morning hug!"

His arms closed around Prussia. Russia's mouth came so close to his ear that his lips touched them as he whispered, " _Pretend to tell me something, then come with me_."

Prussia's heart jumped. The shot of fear caused him to pretend to mumble something back to Russia, who then looked back to America and exclaimed, "Poor Prussia is still tired! Can I give him some chocolate too?"

"Um, kay."

Russia told America, "I'll be back soon then."

America went in front of him. Russia sent an icy glare Prussia's way, fixing him to his spot for the few seconds it took for him to drop off his things in the room. When he had returned, he roughly grabbed Prussia by the arm and dragged him to the kitchen.

"You did a bad thing," Russia muttered. "You will drink the water."

"Why?" Prussia grimaced and pulled against him. "Why do you keep drugging me? I'm not going to tell them. I haven't said a word!"

"I don't trust you. You have to look hurt, but you haven't been doing that. You have to be quiet, but you aren't usually quiet, are you? I have to make you still and quiet."

He tossed Prussia into the kitchen then yanked a water bottle from the fridge.

"Drink this. Half of it."

"No! I don't want to!"

"Listen to me." Russia bared his teeth. "Drink it. Do you not remember what I told you?"

"No!" Prussia cried. "You asshole, I'll keep quiet just because I want to! You can't make me do anything. You won't hurt anybody- everyone will know it was you!"

"How?" The water bottle crunched in Russia's hand, a pained cry as he prowled closer. Prussia stumbled back over his feet, stammering.

"They, they'll just know! You're crazy, that's why!"

Cold fury sparked in Russia's gaze.

"You said something."

"N-no!" Prussia tripped backwards again. His gaze trembled as Russia's face contorted and he came closer still.

"I knew I couldn't trust you," Russia hissed. "Why do you have to _ruin_ everything? Why did you run? Why did you have to see what you did? We could be friends. Don't you want this?"

There was no more room left. When Prussia's back hit the counter, he slid sideways to achieve the maximum distance he could. Russia quickly adjusted himself so that there was no escape, creeping in and driving him into the corner.

Prussia's eyes darted. He set his mug down and exclaimed, "I'll let you be friends with him! Alright? Just leave me alone!"

Russia furrowed his eyebrows and placed a finger to his lips, signaling for him to be quieter.

"It won't hurt, Prussia." He shook the bottle at him. "Just drink it and sleep until I come back. I'll cuddle you, pet your hair… You like that, don't you? I saw Germany doing that.

He reached out a hand to provide a sample. Prussia slapped it away before his hair could be touched and he cried, "No! Stop doing whatever the hell you want with me! I'm not yours!"

Russia's pupils narrowed. Prussia threw out conclusively, "And you can't threaten me anymore! It won't work!"

"Be quiet." Russia lowered his head. "You're too loud."

Prussia stepped forward and snapped, "I'll be as loud as I want if you don't back off!"

Russia slammed his hands on the counters, barring Prussia into the corner. "I warned you how I would punish you," he muttered. "If you don't do as I say, someone will get it."

"Oh yeah?"

Russia bristled. He needed Prussia to be submissive- it was _crucial_ that he bend to his whims. This attitude needed to be broken; the plan demanded it.

"Then what if your little bird disappeared?" he uttered. "It would be hard to prove that was me."

Russia did not intend to harm his pet, but he snapped the words out in hopes that it would drive him into fear. Russia jolted when Prussia's eyes burst into flame and he shoved him hard in the chest. He fell back a step and regained his balance just to notice that a knife had manifested in Prussia's grasp. There was no time to gasp and Prussia screeched, " _Don't you fucking dare_!"

Prussia pushed off the counter and Russia took a few cautious steps back. Now Russia gasped, "When did you get that? H-how? I was always with you!"

Teeth exposed and eyes ferocious, Prussia snarled, "Get back! Don't you ever touch me again!"

Russia dropped the bottle and lunged. Prussia yelped in surprise and could not react in time to the unexpected attack. His throat and wrist were snatched then he was slammed into the fridge. A bang and a cry, then Russia silenced all. Prussia's feet lifted off the ground as Russia squeezed his throat, tighter and tighter still until frantic whistling escaped him.

"You made big mistake, Prussia," Russia breathed. The free hand clawed at him until Russia pressed against him and dug his shoulder into his bicep. Prussia squeaked and writhed vainly, increasingly weaker in each passing second. "All you had to do was listen! I would not have harmed you. We would have been happy."

Pleading eyes met his merciless ones. Prussia's mouth worked, until he could barely choke out, "R-Russia…! T-too… tight… ple… stop!"

He raised him higher and shook him, failing to hear his words. Nothing could be said to him. In his rage, Russia spoke and could no longer see the agony and terror of his victim.

"Why couldn't you just let me love you?" he hissed. "I could have been so good to you. You are just choosing to hate me! Trying to ruin my life!"

Prussia shook his head desperately.

"N-n-no…" he whimpered. "I'm s-s-s…"

Russia closed his throat and Prussia instantly fell into a mode of utter panic. His vision darkened until he could not even see Russia there in front of him. Tears poured down and splattered Russia's arm, but this rain seemed not to be felt by him. His mouth flapped as his body frantically searched for air to sound his sobs, but still, Russia did not see it. Prussia tilted his head back and fought just to shriek, his mind screaming for help to come.

He twitched his knee, driving it as hard as he could into Russia's crotch. Russia jolted but did not loosen his hold, only turning his body to pin him with his hip.

"Do you think I enjoy this? That I _like_ hurting you?" Russia cried, forgetting to be quiet as now tears budded his eyes. "Why did you make me do this?"

Prussia grew heavier suddenly. Russia stopped shaking him and blinked rapidly. He blinked until his vision cleared, and he could see the limp body dangling in his hold. Through closed eyes, Prussia's last released tears cascaded and struck his arm. Now that he felt them, Russia inhaled sharply. He dropped Prussia and he fell with a smack against the tiles.

Russia dove down to collect him and rub his ribs, whispering desperately, "Prussia…? I st-stopped… You can be breathing now…"

He touched his throat with tender fingers and a weak pulse was felt there. Russia sniffed and kept rubbing his ribs until they started to rise and fall gently. A sigh fell from Russia's lips as he pried the knife from Prussia's grasp and stood.

Russia was on the verge of returning it to the knife rack, but then a charging weight smashed into him and he yelped. He tripped over Prussia and crashed into the counter. Instantly warish shrieks sounded out behind him and a kick slammed into his spine. Russia coughed and felt now punches and claws befalling his back. One of his arms was snatched and twisted behind his back, but that was when he gained the sense to react.

Russia whirled around with the intention of clocking his assailant in the face. She bent back in time and Russia's eyes widened as he beheld Hungary's twisted and feral expression of wrath. He had only a glimpse of it however, before her mouth formed an O and a spray of hot, burning blood struck his eyes. Russia gasped as more hit his cheek before he blocked his face. Confusion fired flaming adrenaline through him, but when he heard the knife clatter on the floor, he realized what had happened.

The knife. Oh, he had forgotten he had been holding it.

Russia yelled in horror. Hungary stumbled side-to-side as blood splurted from her throat, through the fingers vainly trying to hold it all in. He threw his hands over hers, trying to stop the bleeding as he screeched, " _Nyet, nyet, nyet_!"

A tide of red washed over his hands and ran down his wrists. He threw out a sob to the ceiling then pressed in harder. Too hard, for she began vibrating and choking until Russia yipped then let go of her. The blood splattered the counter, fridge, and cabinets, then she tripped and fell. Pounding footsteps rapidly drew near as a growing puddle grew around Hungary and Russia danced around the bodies in panic.

America flashed into the doorway. His jaw dropped as he beheld Russia standing over both Prussia and Hungary, waving his bloodied hands at him and crying, "No, America! No, no-"

" _You bastard_!" America screeched.

He sprinted for him with a fist reeling back. Russia's words kept tumbling out. His hands clasped together as he yelled, "I didn't mean to, I-"

Russia hollered when a hook knocked him off his feet. He flew into the counter, whacking his head off the marble before dropping to his knees. America booted his gut and his foot followed him to the ground, stomping again and again. Russia screamed until the sole of the shoe was red, then he managed to grab his ankle and throw him away.

America shrieked with rage as he fell onto his back and slid into the counter dividing the kitchen from the cafeteria. He jumped up just as Russia was making a dash out, rugby-tackling him and taking him back to the ground. A smack as he hit the hard floor, then Russia writhed, spun, and smashed a kick into America's face.

Skin tore and a web of blood broke out over America's cheek. He struck like a spider and landed on him, wrestling with limbs until he could punch any piece of exposed body. Arms, chest, and face- then Russia grabbed an arm and flipped him. He rolled with him until he was on top, punching for the target of his nose. America turned his head left to right to avoid the blows but he was struck in the temple and his vision blackened.

Absolute fury allowed him to find Russia's throat and pull at his trachea. Russia gasped as America brought up his knee and nailed him in the crotch, then when Russia curved upwards, the gut multiple times. Russia released and fell back into the counter, where America snarled and lunged with crooked fingers.

They rolled over the floor in a ball of thrashing claws. Russia snatched America's shoulders and they stumbled to their feet as nails reached for the eyes America had praised only minutes ago. One came close and ripped a neat cut under his eyelid. Russia kicked his shin then pushed back. He tore into the cafeteria, jumping onto tables and racing over their tops. America sailed after him in hot pursuit and when Russia stumbled, he snatched a chair and hurled it at him.

It bashed his head and he collapsed to the floor. America grabbed another and leapt, bringing it behind his head and screaming, " _How could you_?"

Arms flew up but did nothing to block the chair. America turned the plastic away and pounded him with the metal legs.

"I trusted you!"

Russia grabbed a table and struck him with it. America yelped and fell over, giving enough time for Russia to wail, "It was an accident! I didn't have knife, I-"

"Liar! Fucking liar!"

America hurled a table at him. Russia dropped and took cover behind the one in his hand. He gasped for breath as America rushed back and the chase continued. Russia clasped a vending machine and threw it back, only for it to tip and fall before striking America. He raced up and booted it, sending it screeching across the floor after Russia. His legs were caught sideways and he shrieked when they were crushed against the wall. He squirmed to free himself until America came and Russia frantically had to defend himself from his punches.

"You are nothing but a violent psychopath! I'll never open myself to you again! Fucking commie- I'm going to kill you!"

Russia jumped up and kicked America in the temple. He shoved him off the vending machine then dove onto him, elbowing then strangling him. America buckled then bridged, knocking him off balance until his arms could come up and punch him a few times in the throat.

"I didn't!" Russia coughed as he stumbled backwards. He tripped back over a fallen chair and America snatched another table and threw it at him. He yelled out when it struck him, but then Russia rolled, grabbed two, and returned fire. America dove and somersaulted, dodging them while simultaneously grabbing two chairs. Russia skidded to the side as they sailed toward him, missed, then clanged against the wall.

From the corner of the room, Britain was heard screaming, "Don't go in there!"

America chucked another table at Russia and took the time to glance over. Canada was racing toward him, but America hollered, "Go to the kitchen! Hungary and Prussia are hurt!"

Canada veered away as Russia charged for the exit. America sprang onto a table then delivered a flying kick to his head. Russia spun and America dropped onto him, hooking his arm around his throat and falling back. America scrambled to get his arm locked and Russia pinned down. He wrestled to immobilize him, panting in exertion as Russia did, and bleeding over his developing bruises.

"Stay down," America growled. "By god if you know what's good for you, _stay down_!"

Russia kneed him in the tailbone and when he lurched, struggled to throw him off. America nearly fell over, but then America punched him twice more in the neck before retaking his position. This time, he grapevined his legs to prevent another strike from them.

"It was an accident," Russia spluttered. "Prussia had the knife then Hungary attacked and-"

America shoved down and Russia heard a crack in his shoulder.

"I thought you were happy!" America cried. "That _we_ could be happy! You tricked me! How could you do that to me? You liar, liar, _liar_! I didn't know you were so good at acting!"

Tears fled from Russia's eyes as he spotted the ones America was fighting to contain.

"No, no, America… I really do love you. I wasn't trying to hurt anybody-"

"Don't say that!" America screamed. "I hate you! You jackass, I'll always hate you!"

He snatched Russia head and slammed it against the hard floor. Crack. Again. Crack. Blood. Again. Russia reached out for something, anything- but found nothing to defend himself. He screamed in agony and fear, wriggling but helpless as America solidified his guard and kept him in place.

Only a moment later however, America hollered and dropped him. He flew away from China's brutal kick to his temple, the one Russia had already hit, then collapsed in a stunned lump. Russia's eyes rolled as China shook him and called his name.

More people flooded into the cafeteria. Austria and France scampered to the kitchen and Britain charged toward America, Russia, and China. China cradled the matted, bloody mess of Russia's head and fixed Britain with a savage gaze.

"Stay back!" he cried. "Leave him!"

Britain halted. He looked to America as he groaned and brought himself to his knees. He snuck around and helped lift America's exhausted and battered form to his feet. Soon enough however, America felt his energy rushing back into him and he took on a stance. He looked down to Russia, who was stirring in the arms of China.

America wavered as Russia started to get up. China faced him with his fists up and America knew that he could not take on both of them even with Britain.

"What happened?" China demanded.

"Look in the kitchen." America turned his head to spit out a mouthful of blood. "Russia stabbed them with a knife."

"He wasn't there," Russia coughed. "But Prussia attacked me with the knife. I took him down and disarmed him, but then Hungary starting attacking me. When I tried to defend myself, I accidentally cut her throat."

"Liar!" America screamed. "It's as Germany said! You hurt her because you were mad at Prussia! Prussia is hiding your secret and because he revealed something, you attacked Hungary!"

"I didn't!" Russia cried. "It was an accident! I didn't want to hurt anybody!"

Cuba charged in and slid to Russia's side.

"I know he wouldn't have purposefully hurt them!" he boomed. "He wouldn't have done this when he is trying to become your friend!"

"He doesn't want to become my friend!" America snarled. He stamped a foot on the ground and dared to come closer. China and Cuba readied themselves at Russia's sides. "He doesn't understand the concept! He doesn't know how to love! He owns, destroys, and deceives! He always has and always will be like this! I was an idiot to give him a chance!"

The Baltics appeared by the door at a safe distance away, watching as Belarus charged in to Russia's defense. She zipped through the labyrinth of fallen tables and chairs until she could clasp onto his side and hold him protectively. A murderous stare was fixated on America after she had checked Russia's face and found tears there mixed with the blood.

"Big brother is crying!" she hissed. "He does not cry often. You have hurt him!"

"Good," America spat.

"Emotionally!" she snapped. "He is not acting! How dare you say he is!"

Once seeing the odd numbers, Japan rushed to America's side. Italy appeared with a limping Germany half-draped over his back, who had been insistent enough that both made their way through the wreckage to also join America.

"America, please," Russia sniffed. "It was an accident… believe me… Do you really think I was pretending? Did I look like I was? I-I just wanted to be your friend… Everything I did was so that we would stop fighting and have peace…"

"Bullshit," America huffed. "Britain was right. I was stupid to believe such a dream. You just wanted to mess with me then take me down when I was weak. So that you could have all the power."

Russia rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying to ebb the waves of tears.

"I'm sorry… I'm not bad. I just… I didn't know what to do! We needed to be together, in a situation like this where we could talk and cuddle and-"

"What are you talking about?" America uttered.

The trio around Russia jolted. Russia lifted his head and cried, "I'm glad this happened! I got to be with you! We had so much fun!"

"No we didn't," America muttered. "But I bet you had fun cutting up those two. You sicko. Don't say those damn things to me, about love and fun and shit- not when you got blood on your hands. You're a sadist. I can't believe I let you get so close to me."

"America…" Russia stepped forward. "America… Believe me, ple-"

He had come too close. America nailed him in the face, his knuckles plowing into one of his vivid, beautiful eyes. Before a brawl broke out however, Russia whirled around and tore away from them all. America gasped and the crowd scrambled after him, stumbling around the tables and chairs. Russia broke free from hindrance and pelted past terrified Baltics, threw Poland and Ukraine to the side, then jumped into the hall.

Just before America emerged from the cafeteria, a thick blanket of black dropped upon the entirety of the hall. Russia's footsteps were heard disappearing down the corridor as America growled and hastened to find the light switch. His hands patted all over the surface until the slippery, blood-smeared switch was found and America restored light to the place. By then though, Russia had vanished and America was left seething in ire.

"Find him!" he barked to the group assembling around him. "There's nowhere he can hide! Bring him to me!

* * *

Amidst the humming of machines, Russia collapsed to his knees and sobbed. Quivering hands caught his face, sticking blood onto blood: his, America's, and Hungary's together. His body throbbed and jolted, casting him whichever way it pleased, completely careless in aggravating his injuries. Deep agony clutched his body, only forcing his heart to tear more as he remembered whose hands had damaged him in this way.

How he remembered those hands, caressing his back, his arms, and his face. They had found him to give him hugs, invited him to cuddle, and had held him for that friendly kiss. Russia had been able to forget then, how capable those hands were, when he had been distracted by their warmth. Now though, their power and vengeance were all he knew and all he could feel.

Utter coldness.

Russia gasped loudly in the frigid shelter, falling to the rock floor and bawling under the sounds of the machines. There was no more warmth left for him now. He had failed and all that was left for him, he felt, was the cold of winter that he had been raised by.

" _Winter_ ," Russia whimpered. "I am coming back…"

No one could hear him. The machines hummed on to swallow all sounds, and it was sure that no one was going to find him here. It was therefore so, that Russia was entirely alone as he cried not for the serious wounds he had obtained, but for everything that had been lost…

And everything that could have been.

* * *

 **Aaaand now comes the disturbing parts that are usually guaranteed in any Emperor Kumquat fic.**


	12. Черный- Black

**The rant of chapter eight about reviews was directed to more than one guest reviewer. It was just to cover everything that was/ could become a problem as I have had some complaints that go outside of the story.**

 **I modified the rant to seem less aggressive ;) sorry about that.**

* * *

"Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak. Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen."

-Winston Churchill

* * *

Grasping, clawing, Russia pulled his arms tighter around himself as it was the only remedy he could provide for his loneliness. It could be imagined away as a hug, if he squeezed his eyes hard enough so the pain of the injured one let him forget. On the rough ground he dragged his knees in, the pants delightfully soft against his freezing arms. The feeling brought him back memories of blankets and a comfy bed, where he could have been if he had not planned to be here.

Russia sniffed as he searched his being for even a thread of hope. He tried to figure out what there was now, yet he could not think of anything that could push the original plan forward. All he knew was the punishment awaiting him, of America's wrath joined by that of so many others. He was afraid to go up and face what could be more pain. Perhaps he would be attacked by all at once before being given a chance to speak, broken and bloodied further than he was now.

Every bit of him wanted to reverse his actions and go back to how it was. At least, until he began to wonder how far back he needed to go. He could have remembered the knife in his hand, so then Hungary would not have bled. Would everyone had listened to him then? Yet Russia had not needed to choke Prussia. If Prussia had only been seen with the knife in his hand, if Russia had even allowed himself to be hurt, then perhaps Hungary would not have attacked him.

 _Why was she there anyway?_ Russia lamented. He had not expected anyone to come. They were supposed have been eating and he should have been alone with Prussia.

He then wondered if there had been any other way to handle Prussia, one that would not have caused him to snap. More aggression? Less? Would he have been obedient if Hungary had never appeared? Russia did not know as Prussia was a fiery creature and difficult to tame. That was why he had needed to keep him in an unresponsive state. Or _had_ he really? Russia remembered how Prussia had insisted that he would have kept the secret anyway.

 _Could I have trusted him? Will he still keep the secret now?_

Russia put his face into his hands, rejoining blood to blood, as he thought about what would have happened if Germany had been in full health and had seen Prussia hurt on the floor. He would not have escaped to here; he would have been brutalized and left lying in a state worse than Hungary's had Germany been able to join the fight. As it was though, he could not go near America now.

He imagined his feet prowling just above him, growls and snaps as America demanded his capture. Russia could not hear anything, but the thought of America standing above him so close to the entrance struck him with fear. He began to question if the carpet had fallen back right, if the trapdoor was fully concealed or if he was about to be cornered here in this room.

 _Why can't I ever win?_ He quaked from the cold and anxiety. _Why did everything have to go wrong when I was trying to do a good thing? Prussia… you should never have come here! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had any problems._

Russia seethed as he recalled every moment of Prussia's disobedience here.

 _You would never have gotten hurt if you had just listened. It is your fault! Everything is your fault!_

His sweater was still upon him, warming Prussia while Russia was stuck here watching his puffs of breath under the single light dangling from a cord. His hairs stood on end; he rubbed his arms vigorously to cure them of goosebumps. Russia grimaced, but then his lips pulled back further to reveal a snarl. His mind hissed, _You will be punished for everything you did._

With the thought of what he would do to him, there was a birth of a new, makeshift plan.

 _I may not be able to get America back before we get out of here,_ Russia thought, _but I will get the support I need. With enough people on my side, he will have to listen. Then I will show him how good I am and he will be convinced. He will ask for forgiveness and I will accept it. Whatever it takes, we will be friends and brothers again._

Russia rose and stalked to the corner of the room. It was there below the circuit breaker where the infrared night vision goggles had been lying. He scooped them up neatly then opened the door to the circuit breaker, exposing all the switches that allowed power supply to the building.

Russia had always been prepared for failure. As he had told Belarus, there were many things he had planned and was hiding even from her. He just had not expected a failure of this degree and severity, and had not planned to be using these goggles in this way. Seeing no other path to pursue now though, Russia's finger touched one side of the main power disconnect switch.

He inhaled in preparation.

* * *

America hollered, "That's not possible!"

"But we checked every room." Japan dipped his head. "We couldn't find him."

"Didn't you check all the corners? All the stalls? He's a big guy- you can't miss him!"

Britain limped up to them, his leg and back really smarting now from all the recent action. "Look," he said. "One of us probably just missed a spot. Let's switch up and look again."

The idea of stalking all around the level again made America grimace internally. He did not want to show it, but his body could hardly move now. Scratches and horrid bruises covered his being, most just under his clothes, and he could feel deep aching in his organs. Part of him feared that internal damage had been done, that Russia had broken his ribs and smashed an organ. His fingers grazed his stomach in concern, but retracted when he nearly squeaked in pain.

 _Oh god, what have you done…?_

He wanted to lay down and stay there for a while, not moving a single muscle. But heroes could not rest and so he pushed himself to find Russia. The _villain_ who hurt people, deceived them, and used them. A boost of energy came to him through anger, as he visualized every instance where he had fallen into blissful trust. His fists clenched. His face wrinkled. America wanted to snarl out the feral and violent desires within him.

 _Why the hell did he make me kiss him like that? Friend my ass! Probably has a damn, twisted thing for me. Bet he fantasies about me and just said bullshit so he would get to hug and kiss me all he wanted. Fucking sicko!_

"He couldn't have run all the way upstairs in time," America growled. "I frigged him up good. I know he ran down the hall, so I'm checking those rooms."

He stalked away, paying attention to the way his muscles moved and finding that there was no pain in his legs. A realization struck him, that Russia had centered on vitals while America had attacked anything in order to pin and immobilize him. A shiver skittered up his back as he thought about how dangerous it had been to fight with Russia, someone who unlike others, was extremely powerful. This quick fight and the injuries he had now had only been a taste of his capabilities.

America popped into another room and scoured every corner and possible hiding place while thinking, _What's worse, he has China… The others aren't so bad, unless he has a lot. Do the little guys support him? They might if they're scared of him… I really need help here._

He pictured Canada suddenly, fighting with him against Russia two-on-one. Then he imagined him alone against Russia and cringed. A long time ago Canada had beaten America, but nowadays his military power was nothing in comparison. America feared what would happen if Russia got his hands on him now, and hated that he had allowed Russia to hold his brother before despite what he could do.

America stepped back into the hall that was now filled by only a few scattered people filtering in and out of rooms. He stepped into another to commence a thorough search, flicking on the light again and hurrying into the bowels of the room. He had not gotten far however, before there was click and everything fell into complete darkness. At first, he had believed that for some reason the light in this room had gone out, but then yips of surprise and terror arose from various isolated locations throughout the level.

He scrambled to escape into the hall. A thunk and a gasp of pain when he ran into the side of the door, then he was out and fighting for order.

"Everyone stay calm!" he boomed.

Many frightened cries emerged from various directions nevertheless.

" _The power's out_!"

" _What happened_?"

" _Where is everyone_?"

" _How are we supposed to get out of here if we can't see anything_?"

"The power will come back!" America hollered. "This was not a power failure! This had to have been Russia!"

America whipped his head back and forth, frustrated that he could not make out any figures creeping along the hallway. He stayed where he was, throwing out for all who could hear, "Make your way to me if you can! We have to stay together!"

 _Russia's dangerous and creeping around somewhere… Can he see?_ Heart hammering, America put out his hands and found the wall. _Holy crap this is like something out of a horror movie_...

* * *

The goggles shot forth a beam of light invisible to their eyes, but allowed him to see in the total darkness. Russia popped up from the ground and slid over the carpet. He got to his feet and stood for a moment, hearing his own breaths and worried by their loudness. There was no one in this room but his steps made soft sounds on the carpet no matter how carefully he tried to tread forward. Then, with the first steps into the hall, he found he could be silent if he pressed his foot down slowly, toe to heel.

Moving was unbearably slow, but with America just against the wall with his head flashing left and right, he did not want to create too much noise. The monochrome Italy stumbled down the hall, calling for America, and Russia slipped to the side to let him pass by in obliviousness. Russia crept into the cafeteria where Germany crouched in the darkness behind a table. Then, in the kitchen, he found France, Canada, and Austria clustered there in stiff fear as they continued treating Hungary.

Prussia was sitting up and staring past the others in Russia's direction. When he stepped in and to the side however, his head did not turn to follow him. He moved even slower in this room as there were so many here to alert. Russia pressed into the counter and very carefully removed knives from the wooden rack so that they did not scrape the wood. He placed one against each hip then took the rest, three handles per hand, with each blade peeking out behind his fingers.

He retreated and once back in the hall, noticed that Italy had made it to America. No one else was daring to enter the hall despite America's continued cries to do so. Russia exhaled in relief that it was going to be easier when the others were hiding all alone. After all, they were more vulnerable then.

He made his way upstairs, quiet since he did not know who might be up there. Excitement soon hit him to find that Cuba, Belarus, and China had kept together and were here now standing in the hall.

Russia glided up to them and left a whisper.

" _I need your help_."

They twitched in surprise at his sudden presence.

" _Everything's gone wrong and no one will believe me about what happened except for you. I need to convince them. But we need to keep America away or I will never get the chance_."

China spoke loud enough that Russia became confident that no one else was up here. He asked, "What are you planning?"

"I want to bring some people up here and block off the hall. I will get us food, weapons, and other supplies. Everyone will have enough and I will get my second chance with those I am choosing."

"Where are you?" Belarus put out her arms and walked forward. When she fell into his familiar form, she stretched up and touched his face. She said, "You have night vision goggles. Why?"

"I was ready to move items if it came to emergency," Russia replied. "But… Not people. That was never the intention for having these."

"What do you want us to do then?" Cuba inquired.

"When I bring people here, you have to keep them. They might try to run or make noise. That would be bad, so for now, can you make sure this does not happen? I cannot do this alone. You know this is the only solution, right?"

They nodded slowly. Russia continued, "You might have to scare them, but we will make up for it later. Come here. Take a knife each."

He watched their gray faces wrinkle up in uncertainty now, expect for Belarus's. She came forward and Russia turned one wrist down then parted his fingers slightly so that she could locate a handle. Sensing the hesitation in the others, Belarus affirmed, "There is no other way to make them stay. They are wrong about him so we have to do this."

"And later?" Cuba asked. "Once the barricade is up, we won't have to do that anymore, right?"

"Yes, yes. After, I will be very nice to them."

China and Cuba decided to take a knife each after hearing this. Both had feared repercussion for doing what he wanted them to do, but now with this assurance that all would be made up, they agreed. They stepped forward, each remembering their time alone with Russia when he had spilled the plan to them. Echoes of the pain in his voice returned to them, images of his gentle closeness to the others, and the remembered feeling of his affection for them.

Russia had cried in the bathroom, as well a bit in the cafeteria. China was thus assured that this was not a plan for power, that Russia had real emotions and that he needed this. For his happiness; for his sanity, China a took a knife then moved out of the way.

Cuba recalled seeing Russia hugging around America's neck, both of them amused and happy when playing Tetris. He remembered every instance here where he had seen Russia serving everyone, staying close, and extending his kindness by giving Prussia his sweater while he endured the freezing temperature. He was as well convinced that Russia had true plans for friendship, so Cuba grabbed a knife, assuring himself that good times would come soon.

"Thank you," Russia murmured. "Hold my scarf and I will find a room to put everyone in."

Some rooms had not yet been filled with debris. Each of them found a part of his scarf, then he led them down the hall and into a room just past the bathroom. Russia made sure there was a computer and desk in this room as well before he deposited them there.

"I will be putting items in a room with rubble in it so they can be hidden. I can show you where later."

He left, going there now to conceal the remaining knives except for one. His grip tightened around the handle as he grew nervous for what was to come. Despite his instructions, he believed that this mission would be anything but quiet.

Rooms on the lowest floor were checked until Estonia and Latvia were found hiding in a crouch behind a desk. Russia stepped closer, feet touching upon the carpet quietly but still audibly. Closer still he approached, until Latvia gasped in the dark and squeaked, "I-I think I heard…"

Estonia's voice faltered as he called out a whimper into the dark. "R-Russia? Are, are you there?"

He knelt down before them. He expected them to scream, but he replied softly nonetheless, "Hello, I am here."

Terrorized they had been found and cornered, both shrieked. Russia lunged and grabbed Latvia, yanking him in and pressing the blade against his throat. Just as Belarus had before, when he had saved him from her.

"Be quiet," Russia hissed. "Or Latvia might be getting hurt."

Latvia choked on his scream and went silent in his painful hold, quaking and already releasing tears of fright. Estonia had heard Russia and coughed out, "Ok-kay…" He trembled. "Wh-what are you w-wanting from us?"

"Follow me now and quickly. Do not run or knife will go into Latvia, _da_?"

Russia tossed one end of his scarf at Estonia. When the cloth touched his face, Estonia took hold of it and stood up to follow him. America was shouting after them, a tremor of fear in his voice as he demanded to know what was going on. Estonia followed Russia as he dragged Latvia away, but their haste was heard in the hall. The gray America hurdled from Italy, yelling, "Russia! I know that's you! Stay away from them!"

It was evident how blind America was in how he charged at him in a zigzagging path. Russia let him come close before he booted him in the chest. When the foot connected with his severe injuries, America cried out and fell to the ground. He expected more, but then Russia towed away his captives upstairs before he could recollect himself.

America clawed at the blackness, terrified and furious that he could not break through it.

"Russia can see!" he hollered. "He is coming for us! Prepare to defend yourselves!"

Hearing this, Poland and Lithuania pressed in tighter behind the door of a room.

" _That was Latvia and Estonia_ ," Lithuania breathed. " _I bet he's coming for us next_."

" _For what_?" Poland responded.

" _I don't know but… it sounded like he went upstairs. It's quiet now though… I hope they're okay_."

" _They might be like, dead._ "

" _Don't say that_!"

Poland said nonetheless, " _Russia is the only one who can see. We're like, totally done for. He's gonna kill everyone now._ "

Lithuania stiffened in belief at this possibility. He pressed tighter into Poland and hoped that he was completely hidden with him. They waited in the near silence for a while, trying to quiet their breathing while listening to America throwing out threats and challenges in the hall. Footsteps trampled back and forth, too loud for anyone to be able to hear any softer ones. They did not know therefore, that Russia had entered this room until the door nudged them.

He had felt it stopped by soft bodies; the door was thrown away and the two were exposed. Before a word could be said, bloodcurdling screams tore from their mouths and they squirmed into their corner. Russia snatched Poland and gave Lithuania the same instructions he had to Estonia. In an instant he was obediently quiet, although helpless to stop America from shouting and charging toward their location.

America was more vicious this time. Russia could sense his fear of his helplessness, of Russia's advantage, his injuries limiting him, and the terror of the others. America smacked into the wall as he tried to find the door to this room, hurting himself before Russia kicked him down again.

"It's okay, America," Russia told him. "I'm not hurting anyone. You'll see."

America dove at him but Russia easily sidestepped and let America totter off into the dark. Lithuania kept holding onto his scarf and following him with a bowed head. In mere seconds though, America was back and roaring until he was tripped and sent falling smack onto his face. Lithuania cringed at the sound of flesh striking tile, but he hurried along to Russia's fast pace.

Russia knew who else he wanted for upstairs. He found Ukraine hiding as well behind a door, which he threw open and pulled her out from behind.

"You know I love you," he whispered as his knife was pressed to her throat. "America is wrong. I did not intentionally harm them; I just want to show everyone my love. You will come upstairs with me to experience my kindness."

Not wanting to cause her to despise and fear him too much, he kissed her forehead and took away the knife.

"It's not my fault," he assured her. "I can be nice. And I will be nice because I really want friends."

He hugged her for a few seconds, waiting for her to relax and growing upset when she did not.

"I will show you." He gave her the end of his scarf. "I won't hurt you if you give me this chance."

Her mind was occupied by his knife as he led her away. She kept her mouth shut and they were mostly quiet as they went back down the long hall. America heard their footsteps however and rushed at them like a hound, only to be struck down again.

"Stop it," Russia muttered. "You don't need to be fighting me. I don't want to hurt you."

But it was impossible to keep America down. He got up, was felled, then got up again. America cried in pained and exerted gasps, "I can't let you hurt them…! It's… my job to protect the world..."

"I won't hurt them."

He tossed America against the wall and he slid down limply, before rising again and stumbling after them.

"You will… don't even try lying!"

America charged and hit home this time before Russia could dodge. They fell into Ukraine, who gasped before they crushed and rolled over her. Fury spiked once America became cognizant of her presence. He fought to grab Russia's arms and snarl towards his face, "How dare you attack Ukraine!"

"I am not doing that!" Russia curled up his legs and fit his feet under America's stomach. He kicked up and sent him flying away before regathering Ukraine and gaining enough distance to lose him. America thumped about in the dark until Russia returned to the level. He had heard footsteps, but then Russia stood still and pressed into the wall to let him race by, before continuing on.

He knew the next task was going to be a mess, but still in his favor because he could see. Russia snuck into the kitchen, making sure he was undetected by the alert people before he struck. He elbowed France and Austria hard in the temple, one and two- then they were out cold before Canada could leap up and cry out, "Russia's here!"

Canada pounced into the offense. Prussia gasped and stood, fidgeting in the corner until he heard a gasp, then a smack as a body fell limply to the floor. He did not even stutter out Canada's name; he knew what had happened. Prussia trembled and reached out behind him, searching for an item on the counter to defend himself with.

"Prussia, don't make me hurt you. I don't want to."

There was nothing to grab. Prussia scooted upwards, seating himself and curling up into a ball against the cupboards.

"That won't be helping." Russia's voice did not come closer however. "You know I can see you."

With moon eyes, Prussia listened to strange scraping and soft rustling sounds.

"So just come with me. I will not be hurting you if you do not give me reason to. I want us to be friends, trusting and close."

Prussia heard now other footsteps coming close to this room. It gave him the bravery to mutter back, "I-I won't."

Russia turned his head and saw Germany limping toward him. He sighed, then kicked him in the head. It was so unexpected that Germany never knew what had hit him in the dark before he was knocked unconscious. Prussia gasped when those footsteps were quieted, then again when a chair scuttled across the cafeteria floor as America dashed crookedly onto scene.

"I don't want to…" Russia exhaled. America felt his way frantically toward the kitchen, but giving up on discussion, Russia struck America as he had with Germany, collapsing him.

"You have to come, Prussia," Russia said. "No one else is coming for you and I have Hungary now in my arms. I think she stopped the bleeding, but knife can always start it again."

He understood the threat. Prussia rubbed at his eyes and his voice quivered.

"You're insane… you're so insane!"

"No, and I will show you. Come on here."

Terrified for Hungary, Prussia slid off the counter. He walked forward and immediately tripped over bodies. A stressed sound hitched in his aching throat as he tried to imagine whom he was moving over, and how badly hurt they were. Eventually, an upright body moved into him. Hungary's shoes touched his shoulder and Russia's voice came from above them.

"Hold onto my scarf."

Stickiness pulled at their shoes as they exited the kitchen, walking through the puddle of blood as all other paths were blocked by France, Austria, and Canada. Russia avoided Germany and America, but as they neared the exit to the cafeteria, he spotted Japan standing at the entrance with Britain behind him, both wielding chairs.

"I hear you there!" Britain cried. "Stop this at once, Russia!"

"Stop what? What do you think I am doing?"

"You're taking people, hurting them, and god knows what else!"

Russia halted and replied, "I only hurt those I had too. The people who wanted to fight me."

"Turn the power back on!" Britain commanded. "This instant!"

"I will turn it back on. Soon." Russia now moved forward, cautioning them, "But you should be getting out of my way. I don't like to make the bad feelings. You don't have to be hurt... if you want to, you can even come with me. We will be having good times upstairs being friends and getting out."

"So you've taken everyone upstairs?" Britain lashed back. "Prisoners of your dark desires?"

"Not prisoners. Friends, friends. I will give them lots of love."

"Just like you gave Prussia and Hungary, right?"

Russia paused before he was too close to Britain and Japan. "Can you be moving now?"

There was no response. Now that his voice was so close, they lunged. Russia skidded back and to the side with Hungary in his arms and Prussia stepping quickly with him. Japan and Britain swung wildly in the dark, trying to pursue where they believed Russia had gone. He was almost amused at their ungainliness in their anger as they stumbled around swinging with gray, determined faces. He did not want to take too much time however, so he tripped them and to make the return trip easier, kicked both in the head with the right amount of pressure.

"Why did they do that?" Russia hummed as they passed by the new, unconscious bodies. "I said only nice things. Didn't I, Prussia?"

Prussia shivered and did not answer. Russia asked again, tone sharper, then Prussia agreed. In the hall, the last mobile person was seen: Italy. Russia smiled and walked toward him, wondering if he would be easy to take and convert onto his side. Before he could threaten him however, Italy bolted past him, hand trailing the wall until the washroom door was found. Russia watched him slip in, likely locking the door then himself into a stall.

He did not want to spend the effort pursuing him. Russia led Prussia upstairs and in the room, deposited Hungary on the floor. Prussia held onto his scarf still, frightened to let go until he was told to. When Russia gave him the word though, Prussia went to Hungary without hesitation.

"Now I will get supplies," Russia told them all in a merry voice. "Be good!"

He took a few trips, glad to be without resistance as washed his hands then took food from the kitchen and vending machines, a little more than half of the total supply. All of the fridge's water bottles were taken, the gum, then many dishes, cups, and utensils. Russia thought about what else they could need but ended up only taking soap and towels in the end.

The last thing he did was move all the stolen items from the drawer to hide upstairs in the same room he had hidden the knives. After this, he went to turn the power back on and leave his night vision goggles down in the hidden maintenance room. He had been rather sick of gray and was content to be back in the light, feeling returned to the real world. Russia closed and covered the trapdoor well before creeping back out into the hall.

Italy was still hiding, so all there was for him was silence. Blood smeared the walls in the spots he had touched before he had cleaned his hands, but some splatters existed here and there. Russia stiffened as he realized who those had come from.

 _Did I hit him that hard?_

He had not been trying to hurt America after all the injuries he had sustained during their fight. Russia did not want to give him more reason to hate him; he still wanted to be gentle to him and get the kindness he had received from him before, again. A sigh left him as he pulled himself once more up the stairs, his injured legs exhausted and hardly able to perform this feat. At the top though, he realized that he had yet to block off this stairwell so America could not reach them later.

Russia felt that he could not do it by himself. A pit stop at the bathroom to wash his face thoroughly, then he moved on now, feeling ready to present himself to his to-be friends. He arrived at the room where everyone had been dropped off, his _not prisoners_ , who had heard his approach and had begun to tremble.

He flicked on the light to see that Belarus was aggressive in her execution of his command, locking onto Estonia and keeping the tip of her knife against his neck. Dot wounds had been created whenever he swallowed or shifted, so a few streaks of red went down his throat down to his collarbone. China and Cuba however, had not accidentally injured their captives, as they had been gentler in case Russia would disapprove of their harm. Nevertheless, Lithuania and Poland were no the more happier to be there in their holds.

"I need one more thing," Russia said as he stepped into the room of tense atmosphere. "Everyone has to help block the stairs. It will be done fast, then you can rest."

No one moved at first. Thinking that they were planning to run down to America, Russia was sure to add, "And there is no one to run to. You see, America and the others have been… taken care of. Running will be bad, because I will catch you and I will not be happy."

Bodies tensed. Without America or anyone else to aid them, they truly felt that there was nothing else for them but Russia. Every one of them was still wounded, and even though Russia was in bad shape, they did not consider attacking him all at once. He was powerful; it could be a grave mistake. Not to mention, he had other allies who would fight for him.

So they obeyed. Heads down, all but Hungary followed him to rooms where rubble was stored. He pointed; they carried. Things were dropped down the stairs and compacted near the top by the site America's group had been digging in. China and Cuba were told to hold onto their knives in case there was trouble, but he took Belarus's and sent her to help work. Russia put that one on his person but kept his knife as well, holding it and making sure that the sight of him motivated the others to hurry.

 _Who knows when America will wake up?_ he thought. America was a difficult case, far too tough for his liking. Once the light was back on and they were on an even playing field, Russia had reason to fear his return.

Latvia panted in exertion, feeling his old cuts starting to open. His arms wobbled as he lifted a chunk of the ceiling and carried it down the hall towards the stairwell. He could feel Russia's sharp eyes upon him, and the thought of displeasing him frightened him so much that he imagined him striding up to him and sinking that knife into his spine. Latvia twitched, but then lost his balance. He teetered backwards, his feet stepping in a waltz until the weight became too much and bent him back.

A gasp, then a clang behind him. Hands shot out to grab the piece and a wall of a body straightened him. Then, Russia's voice came down with his face as he murmured to him, "Why did you try to carry something too heavy for you? You are weak, Latvia. You need me to help you or else you will get hurt."

Russia raised the piece over him then moved around him. He tossed it into the pile then returned. Latvia froze as he reached out and ruffled his hair, whispering, "Stay by me. I will protect you."

Russia's knife had fallen onto the floor, but no one dared touch it. Everyone continued working, seeing the incident with Latvia but saying nothing. It happened anyway that the same occurrence befell them, where their exhaustion and injuries caused them to falter and Russia rushed in to save them.

"Be careful," he told them. "I don't want you to get hurt."

He decided to help them too in order to get the stairwell blocked off as fast as possible. Out of the nineteen in this building, eleven were upstairs and nine working. Eventually though, when everyone had been doing what they were told, Russia bid China and Cuba to help them. With all of them on the job, the stairwell was blocked up tightly before America could become aware of what was going on.

"Good," Russia sighed. "Everyone can rest now. Sit down and I will do some of the explaining."

They were glad to collapse onto the floor and limpen their weary muscles. The floor and wall were frigid, but for now cooled their heated bodies. They did not make eye contact with Russia but looked to each other with empathetic gazes, understanding each other's suffering, which put a sort of bond between them. China and Cuba went to Russia's sides, but Belarus stayed on the floor, breathing through parted lips.

"I knew that you wouldn't have come on your own," Russia started, "so I had to force you. I am sorry for this, but don't be afraid anymore. I brought you here to show you that I am not the bad person you think I am. America was not right to attack me because I was innocent. Prussia. He had the knife."

Russia sent a glare his way. "Why did you have that? Where did you get it?" he asked.

Prussia hesitated as he weighed his options. If he supported Russia, people would be more willing to trust him, but Russia was sure to abuse them in the end. At least, this is what Prussia believed after having had experienced painful threats and punishments since coming here. He wondered if it would be better to keep them fearing Russia, as Germany had by not admitting that he had the final missing knife.

Prussia had not forgiven him for everything he had done too, to him or to Hungary. He realized now as well, that Russia could not threaten an honest response from him because it would lose credibility. No one would believe or trust Russia if he put a knife to his throat and demanded the truth. Thus, Prussia turned his head up to him and spat, "You psycho! I never had the knife! You attacked me, that's what! You knocked me down and stabbed Hungary when she tried to save me!"

Russia's eyes flew wide then his eyelids dropped as he squinted at him. "What?" he growled. "You are lying. You know you had it."

"Anyone can ask Hungary!" Prussia whipped back. "Russia had it all along and then he attacked me!"

Russia shook as he consciously held himself back. He could not attack or harm him in front of the others if he wanted their trust, and he was furious that Prussia knew this as well.

"You're lying because you hate me," Russia snapped. "Even after all I did for you. You are only warm because of the sweater I gave you. Don't you even think about how cold I am while you are wearing that? Why doesn't anyone ever think of me?"

"You were just trying to make me thankful," Prussia muttered. "But you took my jacket."

Russia jolted. Prussia eyed up his fury but noticed that Russia still was forced to restrain himself. He remembered Germany's words, of how invalid his old threat of harming others was because it would bring too much trouble upon himself. Prussia felt that he was safe to say what he wanted as long as he was with the others, and he now felt that after having had been dragged up here, there was much to be said.

"You threatened us, hurt us, and forced us to do things we don't want to!" Prussia went on. "You act like you want to be our friend, but you just want to use us! Everyone knows that there is no reason to trust you, so why are you pretending to be a good person? You are violent and crazy! You just wanted to put us here to trick us, to make us like you-"

The secret was escaping. Russia's heart thundered and he now felt that it was more important for the secret to be kept. He lunged and Prussia yelped in surprise. In front of everyone, Russia grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet before slamming him against the wall and pinning him there with his hands on his shoulders.

"Stop it!" Russia cried, trying to show enough emotion to appeal to the others. "Why are you trying to ruin my life? All I am trying to do is show everyone that I want to be their friend and can treat them well, but you keep lying! You are purposefully trying to get them to hate me!"

"I don't want to be kept quiet," Prussia huffed. "I can't take this anymore! I think that we need to band together to protect ourselves. No more using fear to control us!"

"I was not intending to do that up here. I wanted to do nice and fun things." Russia shook his head. "Lots of hugs and cozy things."

"No one wants to do that with you!"

A few eyes looked to the knife on the floor that Russia had his back to. Cuba and China noticed this and hurried in as Russia landed himself in worse favor.

"It's true that Russia wants to be your friend!" China threw out his defense. "He is really trying. You have to give him a chance because if you treat him nice, he will do the same for you!"

Cuba said, "Come on. Let's move on from the past and work with Russia. Wouldn't world relations be better if we stopped making enemies of each other? Russia's not heartless. Do you really think he was acting with America? We all saw how happy they were when they weren't fighting. Don't you want a world without all this drama?"

"You're like, just as bad!" Poland exclaimed at Cuba. "You put a knife on me! You've always been close to him!"

"What do you want?" Russia snapped at them. "You just want to hate me. Nothing I do will ever be seen as good."

"You don't regret anything," Prussia hissed in front of him. "Nothing you've ever done, to anyone you've ever hurt!"

"Why do you think I enjoy hurting people? I do what I have to, so I can't give you an apology. That won't be happening but... I don't like what I did. I really like being close and friendly and if allowed, that is all I would do."

The pressure on Prussia's shoulders softened. "Please," Russia continued. "If you would just consider me and my feelings… I would never hurt you again. I need this. If I don't have friends… not only would I be unhappy but, I might not survive."

Prussia was quiet again, thinking about what steps to take. Russia began to relax, thinking that his silence was a positive thing, that he was considering his feelings. Prussia then muttered quickly, "You are just lying to everyone about everything. But they should know that you trapped us here on purpose."

Russia inhaled sharply. In his peripheral vision he saw everyone jolting, even those who had known as they could not believe Prussia had said it. In terror he could not conceal, Russia snatched Prussia's throat in one hand and his eyes went sharp.

"What?" His voice was like a chill breeze. Prussia's heart raced as he realized how far he had gone, how willing Russia was now to hurt him despite the presence of everyone else. He lost the ability to talk. Prussia stood with wide eyes and beads of sweat dotted his face as Russia's callous expression neared him.

"How could that be possible?" Russia's hand tightened around his neck. "Tell me, Prussia."

But the others now understood that Prussia knew the reason, because they could now see where the bruises on his neck had come from. It was obvious now that Russia had been silencing him, even as Prussia choked, "I-I don't know…"

"R-Russia," Ukraine murmured. "You- you said you wouldn't hurt-"

"He has to stop lying," Russia growled back. "You'll never trust me otherwise."

"Russia," Ukraine said softly again. "He's not lying, and we only distrust you because of what you're doing right now…"

He heard his heart echoing in his ears. Russia could see everyone retreating away in fear as his face took on an incomprehensible expression. Prussia was released but still Russia stood there for a few seconds, staring at past him. Prussia remained pressed against the wall, too afraid to move, wondering if Russia was going to lose it on them all right then and there now that they were trapped upstairs with him.

"How else…" Russia whispered eventually.

Prussia blinked. He swallowed when Russia still did not move away.

"Nothing I say…" Russia went on. "No matter how I treated you… No one was ever going to trust me… see how much I am trying, see that I am wanting so, so much to be good and be your friend… So how else was I supposed to do it, except by saving you…?"

Jaws dropped at the admittance. Russia tightened his body to hold the tears in, unsure if crying would make him look weak in front of them. He felt that he had been crying too much lately and that was not good for a powerful country to do.

"Oh my god…" Estonia whispered. "You really did it…"

"You let the building fall on us!" Latvia wailed. "You injured us on _purpose_?"

"No, no- I didn't." Russia squeezed his eyes tight together. "I was going to move you, before…"

"Move us? What are you talking about?" Lithuania gasped.

The world spun around Russia.

"I-I…"

"He drugged everyone," Ukraine murmured. "The water cooler. He knocked us all unconscious."

Russia nodded, thinking this explanation was helping.

"Yes, see… I never wanted anyone to get hurt…"

"You drugged us?" Poland cried.

And everyone else reacted.

"What?" Lithuania yelped.

Estonia yelled, "How could you?"

Then Latvia exclaimed, "Th-this is why we d-don't trust you!"

"No, please…" Russia murmured. "There was no other way-"

"So this is why you invited us!" Estonia interjected. "To trap us into a plan for control!"

"No, no-"

"Oh god," Lithuania whispered.

"I should never of come here!" Poland yowled. "Holy crap, this guy's crazy!"

"A meeting at Russia's…" Estonia shook his head.

"Why don't you understand?" Russia snapped his head to the side and gazed at all of them. "You would never have given me a chance if I hadn't done this! You aligned yourself with America and now listen to everything he says about me! You know this is the truth!"

They glared back at him, looking too brave and rebellious for his liking. Ukraine looked sad in a sorts, and Belarus was merely watching him, waiting to see what he would do.

"Can't you see how desperate he was?" Cuba came in. Russia breathed deeply, not looking back to look at him. "That is how much he was willing to risk just to have peace."

"Even in… those times," Russia murmured with a nod. "I always cared about you… but things didn't work out and I… did some bad things that I had to. It can be different now though, if we forget. I want to forget and be good friends."

He wanted to deflate, but again he wanted to keep looking strong. Russia did not know if it would work to sink himself down, if they would sympathize with him or attack him.

"So you want us to forgive you…" Lithuania spoke softly. "But how can we… when you haven't changed?"

Those words hurt too much. Everything he had not wanted them to think about him, they did. Now he couldn't stop a few tears from streaking down his face. Upon sight of them, they grew stronger to see that they could do non-physical harm. They started to stand, one-by-one, reconsidering their advantage in numbers.

"You won't hurt us anyone," Lithuania continued, rising. "You won't ever change, but we have."

"Stop… listen…"

"We're going to tell America," Estonia said. "The world will see you for what you are."

"You don't understand, but you have to!"

They started to move forward. Prussia shoved him and scooted sideways to the others, and Russia stumbled to regain his balance in pained shock. His violet eyes flashed between each upset face.

"And you are wrong," Estonia spat. "We don't need you! We are strong, if not individually, then together."

They stepped too close to the fallen knife. Russia gasped and whipped out the knife he had been carrying, the one that they seemed to have forgotten about as they all jolted in surprise. Russia hopped forward and grabbed the other, his grip tightening on both handles as he pointed the blades toward them.

"Go to the room." Russia bared his teeth. "Now."

The rebellion was smothered in an instant. They scrunched up and went quiet, the fiery light in their eyes dead. Each slunk past him, heading to their destination. Russia stuck out an arm in front of Prussia however, the tip of the knife pointed toward him as he hissed, "Give me your sweater. If you don't believe in my kindness, you will not have that anymore."

He removed and dropped it onto the floor. Russia still did not let him pass however, and muttered, "You will come with me. For everything you did, you will be punished."

No one else but Cuba and China heard this, as the others had already hurried to return to the room. Russia indicated with his head, for those two to go guard the door and keep everyone in there. They went off to do his bidding, disappearing around the corner. Now left alone with Russia though, Prussia trembled as the knife came closer and touched his chest.

"Follow me," Russia uttered.

* * *

When he returned to the others, he was wearing the sweater. They shivered and watched his movements with horror, terrified by his refusal to drop his knives and regard them with a glare. However, Latvia could not keep himself from whimpering, "Wh-where's Prussia?"

Russia snapped his glare directly at him. Latvia broke down under his cold eyes, crying and tucking himself into a ball. Lithuania whispered, "What d-did you do to him?"

"Do not ask about Prussia," Russia muttered.

"Oh god…"

"He is fine," Russia stated. "Say no more."

Russia sent Ukraine a scalding look, demonstrating that he was angry with her but would not take action. At least, perhaps not now.

The more afraid they grew however, the more they wanted to know what had been done to Prussia. They needed to know how concerned they should be for themselves.

"Where is he?" Poland yelped.

Cuba and China froze, growing wary of Russia as he replied again, "Do not talk about Prussia anymore. Pretend he was never here."

They shivered and cried, deciding that with that statement, they should be terrified for their own lives.


	13. Железо- Iron

"Nations do not mistrust each other because they are armed. They are armed because they mistrust each other."

-Ronald Reagan

* * *

There seemed to be a cold air seeping from Russia, chilling even China. He felt that there was something very wrong with him, in how even in his close presence he was distant. Russia's eyes were different, a solidified purple instead of a tender one, and he stood too straight as he clutched his knives. Concerning still was that his scarf was askew yet he either did not care or did not notice, which only added to the image of insanity. In beholding the entirety, China was worried for the others and equally afraid for Prussia.

 _What is happening to Russia?_

He did not think it was as bad as the others believed, but he knew he had to find out what had become of the missing member. At this moment, it seemed that only he or Cuba could reach out to Russia since they had stood by him during the short-lived rebellion. China thought that perhaps he could calm Russia and get the answer out of him. Although, not here. Russia needed to be isolated from the group he was stressed by.

Cuba seemed to have the same idea. He made eye contact with China, nodded, then they both stood and walked up to Russia. He snapped his head back the moment he detected movement behind him, but then he made no form of communication or action after seeing it was only them. Unable to tell his mood or thoughts involving them, it took some muster for China to murmur to him.

"Let's go outside and talk a bit."

"About what?" Russia muttered.

"Some things."

He did not budge and China did not feel like now was a good time to touch him, despite how he had been just hours ago.

Cuba aided him. "Were you going to show us?"

Russia hardly blinked his unnervingly sharp eyes. He stared back at them for some time, eventually allowing a slow nod of understanding. Cuba and China headed to the door as Russia turned and crept after them with tensed muscles. At the doorway however, Russia halted and snapped his stare back at the others.

"No one leaves the room," he uttered.

They went rigid at the cold tone, freezing to their places. Russia yanked the broken door in the best it could close, then eyed up China and Cuba waiting in the hall. He spun away without any cue, taking them up toward the blockage by the front door into a nearly full room. Here they navigated around pieces of rubble until they uncovered the weapons stash and the other piles of supplies. Russia took them back out without a comment, about to lead them to the other room now that they had seen where everything was.

They quickly stopped him.

"Wait," Cuba said.

Russia paused.

Cuba continued, "Are there any other rooms here that are empty?"

Russia turned his face to the side and nodded, one eye on them both.

"Can you take us to one?" China asked. "Just for a bit. We want to talk."

"Why?"

"So we can know what we are going to do next."

Finally, he was convinced. Russia led them to an empty room with only the typical desk, chair, and computer. He let them in first but after closing the door, stood by it with crossed arms and the knives in his hands pointing out in both directions.

"Russia," Cuba started. "How are you feeling?"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly in his confusion of the unexpected question. "Feeling?" he echoed, then replied, "Not good."

"Angry? Sad?"

His intimidating expression stayed, his posture said ire, but Russia answered, "I am… afraid. I don't know what will happen now."

"You should relax," Cuba told him. "Sit down."

China went with Cuba and they slid down the nearest wall, inviting him to join them. Russia hesitated, regarding them with what seemed to be suspicion, his eyes flashing over the knives they held. His grip tightened on his own but he did not make any aggressive moves. The two decided then to lay theirs to the side out of the way, hoping it would loosen his unwillingness to drop his. It did. Russia uncrossed his arms and his hands relaxed.

To urge him out of this state of hostility, Cuba patted the spot beside him and said what he was rather sure would draw him closer.

"Come on. It's warmer when we're together."

A reaction seemed to be occurring within Russia. The shell was cracking and it started becoming possible to see the emotion Russia had told them of. His eyes were melting and his lips started to move; they knew now they were getting to him and his wobbly stress was revealing itself. Cuba spread open his arms, which startled Russia at first. There was a widening of Russia's eyes, then the return to their normal size with the setting of his brows.

His face was asking if he really could. The offer remained for him. Russia did not move for some moments, but then the knives dropped and he did. One step, then many quickly, until he reached his embrace and burrowed into it. He came in and settled into his arms so fast that Cuba had to recover from the impact. He caught his breath and readjusted himself to handle Russia's weight, but doing so in a way that Russia would not be bothered.

For now was the time to be careful. Russia needed to be calmed and nothing should throw him back into hostility. That way, they could get their answer and naturally, make Russia feel better. Cuba let Russia squeeze his sides and tuck his face into him. Russia was not crying, but dead silent as he curled up his legs to the side and pulled himself deeper into the comfort.

They were shocked now to be able to see in the clear, how hurt he was in all manners. He had gone some time with the brutal injuries, emotional wounds, and no sympathy. He had been seeking comfort but had not asked for it. Now though, all it had taken was for someone to trust him, let him be close, and demonstrate caring, for Russia's composure to soften. Vulnerability was leaking out and Russia was displeased by that, but the hand rubbing his back could not be denied.

"It's safe in here. Say what you want," Cuba said.

Russia replied, "I... don't know to say."

"What are you going to do with everyone?" China asked.

"Take care of them."

"I don't know if they want it."

"They don't want food? Water?"

"I mean... they don't want to be here."

Russia said, "I know, but they'll change their minds soon. They have to."

"Russia…" Cuba touched his hair now. "I think you have to show them this. I mean, your emotions without any cover."

"They think you're heartless," China agreed. "Maybe you should be more sensitive."

"You could explain everything you did to us, to them," Cuba added. "You need them to feel for you."

"I don't want them to pity me," Russia muttered.

"What if you completely opened up?"

"Crying, you mean? I don't want to do that. Not again." Russia bared his teeth. "Just a little and they thought they had an advantage over me. They can't beat me physically, but if they see a way to hurt me, they do it. So they feel strong. This is why I can't do any of this. If they know how much I am feeling, they will see me as weak. The world will see me as weak. Then, I'll be attacked."

Cuba stroked his hair and Russia's tensed shoulders relaxed. His head shifted as he added, "I wish it wasn't this way though…"

"They are afraid and it's the only way they can defend themselves against you," China murmured. "Although they don't need to be afraid anymore now that you have them up here… and shouldn't be threatening them anymore."

"Yes." Russia nodded. "I did what I had to, but now they should not be afraid. "

Now was where China dared to bring up the disappearance of the group member. "They're worried about Prussia though," he told him. "They think you will do what you did to Prussia, to them."

"Well, if they are being mean to me then maybe."

"But what did you do with him anyway?"

Cuba kept giving Russia comforting touches, and fortunately there was not even a smidge of aggression in his reply.

"Don't go to him, but... I tied Prussia to a desk and left him. Oh, and with mouth cover. I don't want anyone finding him so now he will be quiet."

"So you didn't hurt him?" Cuba asked.

"No… no. I did not feel good with that idea. I am mad at him, but I don't want to see him bleed or be scared…" Russia sighed. "I hurt him earlier because I didn't know what else to do, but I think this idea is better. He can think about how he was cruel to me and I will release him later."

"If that's really all you did… you should tell the others that he isn't hurt," Cuba said. "You made it seem like you killed him."

"But I said to them that he was fine. I know I said this. Did they think I was lying?"

China told him, "Your tone made it seem you meant something else."

"Ah. No, Prussia is okay. I just don't want anyone seeing him or helping him. He has to be punished so he learns to be good and considerate of my feelings. He was very rude, yes?"

Cuba did not like this punishment idea, but was glad like China was that he had not hurt Prussia and worsened the situation. He asked Russia, "How long are you going to keep him there?"

"Hmm, a few hours I think."

"A few hours! He's in a T-shirt, isn't he?"

"He's been colder before. He will be okay, and then when he has thought enough about what he did to me, I will comfort him. When he needs me, he will treat me better. And when he realizes that I could have done something worse, he will be happy that I am merciful. I can forgive him, you see. It is tiring to stay mad for so long."

"Are you going to do it again?" China asked.

"No. Unless anyone wants to fight me again, because then I have to stop them from doing that."

Cuba affirmed, "Just this time then… because they should start getting adjusted soon."

Russia nodded into him. He felt so tired suddenly under his combing fingers, wanting to nap and recover from his wounds. His body calmed more and more, but he did not want to doze here. He wanted to rest with someone else in the room, where he could show them the gentle part of his personality that did not dream of injuring them. They needed to know about it.

"I want to go back now," Russia sighed. "Sleep a bit. I am very tired."

"Well, it's been a long day," Cuba replied. "Even though we haven't had lunch yet."

"Ah yes, lunch," Russia murmured. "They can wait for that."

Russia pulled himself away from Cuba and scooped his knives off the floor. He regarded them with a frown, then commented, "I don't want to hold these anymore. It makes me unhappy and the others too. Yes, friends don't keep knives around each other. I have to act in the friend way to get them to as well."

He made them stick their knives away with his in the room being used for supply storage. When they came back they found that no one had dared to move from their spots, not even to come closer to one another. They were scared, and Russia could tell, of him. But Russia saw their eyes focusing on his hands and noted how they relaxed just slightly from the disappearance of the knives.

He decided to reassure them.

"I did not hurt Prussia," Russia reported quietly. "I only wanted to make him think of the bad thing he did. He will be separated from you for a while, but I will take him back and you will see that he is okay."

They blinked, trying to accept what he had said. It took some moments to realize that he had said that he had _not_ hurt Prussia, then some more to remember then become surprised by the news that Prussia would come back.

Lithuania verified, "He's coming back here? And unharmed?"

Russia nodded, appearing happy at first that they were looking more relieved, but then frowning at another thought. He asked, "What did you think I did to him?"

An uncomfortable silence fell as no one dared to answer. Russia felt heaviness in his chest as he pressed softly, "Did you think I would make him bleed?"

They looked away. Some looked to Hungary and Russia followed their gaze. She was lying on the floor with her eyes closed, the stained towel still around her throat. Russia did not know if she was listening and just staying quiet or not, but the sight of her made him pine for how things had been before. More than ever though he felt that his fear of Prussia speaking, had made him do horrible things. Things that damaged his attempts to befriend him, only pushing him further away.

 _Gentler_ , Russia reminded himself. _I have to be extra nice to reverse the fear I gave them years ago. The world does not know what I want when I work too hard to protect myself and look strong._

"I did not break his skin in any way," Russia concluded. "He was not screaming. You would have heard him if I wanted to hurt him."

His words made them aghast. He tried to recover, saying swiftly, "I only left him to think. I want to stop hurting people and be a helper too. Like America, but better at it. So, I won't be hurting you."

" _Help_ us?" Estonia muttered. "We know. You put us here on purpose so you could pretend to be our hero... But you're not one. You aren't America."

Lithuania and Latvia stared at him in shock after his audacious statement. Russia's mild expression hardened in an instant and he replied in a lower tone, "Don't praise America so much. He has flaws too. Only, mine are the ones pointed out for you to be knowing of. Some aren't even true."

Bitterness swirled within him and his wounds stung as though fresh. Russia tried to recall a tender memory of hugging America, but he could not remember how his touch had felt. How his hands had been. Now all he could call forth was the feeling of his fists and nails. The scent of AXE was no longer comforting enough to be lulled to sleep by, but a reminder from when he had smelt it during their fight.

"So no more talking of America here," Russia continued in an utter. "I don't want to hear that name again. It is only me. I am here for you, and I will give you everything I can. I will give you food and water, treatment, warmth... I cleaned your wounds, do you remember? America did not do that. He did nothing for _his_ friends. But maybe without me you would be having painful infections right now."

He stood tall, ready for any snaps back at him. None came. Russia moved toward Hungary now as Cuba and China went to sit down, awkwardly away from those they had forced to stay here. On the route to her, Russia added, "I will serve the lunch later. I want to sleep a bit now and you should do the same. It would be good for you, right? You agree that you worked hard earlier and now you need rest." He knelt in front of Hungary. "So no one will leave the room except for going to the washroom. I want the door open, and I will listen to where footsteps go. If you go another way, I will know. Also, escaping is bad to try- you can't make it downstairs. We are here together now."

He lay his hand on Hungary's shoulder and she did not react to it. Russia felt sure then, that she was still recovering from her blood loss or else would have protested to him being close to her. With his other hand, Russia peeled away the towel with care to check on the cut. No fresh blood rushed out at him and he was glad to find that already the cut had scabbed nicely. He re-covered the cut to hide its red smile from the others, before he felt her face.

The skin there was chilled and so was the suit of her arm. Russia confirmed his idea from before, that he would keep his victim warm and hopefully this act would be taken with gratitude when she became more conscious. He would show her that he had not meant to injure her.

 _Does she remember my cry?_ Russia wondered as he brushed a lock of brown hair with his fingers. He eventually became aware of concerned and upset gazes upon him. In his pause, Ukraine murmured, "Maybe you shouldn't touch her… I don't think she would like that."

"Because of what I accidentally did..." Russia's eyebrows lowered. "But she would be wrong to be mad at me. I will show her that."

Despite the looks, he scooted around her then lay down. She was already on her side and he was quite content to put on arm around her and hold her close. He was confused by the growing reaction of most in the room, not understanding why they could not see how good it was that he was not harming Hungary, but trying to comfort her after what had happened.

"She needs to be warm," Russia explained by her hair.

 _What is wrong with what I am doing?_ He started to become annoyed, squeezing his eyes together and pressing into the carpet to keep quiet. When he could no longer see the looks, he could pretend that they had ceased them. Russia tried to succumb to the weight of his exhausted muscles, going limp and clearing his mind of every bubbling worry he had.

 _It'll get better_ , he told himself on a loop. After all, he believed that it could not get worse than this, and could only go up from here. It had to, at least. Thinking of anything else was too terrifying to deem as a possibility.

The world felt better when there was a warm body beside him. His quiet respiration passed over Hungary's crown as his chin settled over her head. It was like a sweet-scented, breathing body pillow, so comforting that he soon drifted off into a slumber. He remained still in his rest, deeply asleep but leaving the others unsure if he really was, or was only pretending to in order to see what they would do next. They did not move until enough time had passed and they had grown too cold separated. Lithuania, Poland, Estonia, and Latvia came together while Ukraine decided to creep near Belarus.

No one talked, but eventually Lithuania stood and padded backwards out of the room. Wide eyes regarded him, but China, Belarus, and Cuba watched him carefully. Lithuania stared at Russia, but he did not react as he slipped out of the room. Not feeling particularly brave, Lithuania went to the only room he was permitted to, only to find glass on the floor of the washroom.

Some of the pieces were large chunks with sharp edges and fine points. Lithuania inhaled and looked around himself, but there were only stalls here and a closed door behind him. Heart thumping, he stepped toward the glass, then stepped back.

 _If he found out…_

He could hide a shard on him, but Russia might check him. He might wash his wounds again, or even force a spontaneous hug upon him. Either way, Russia's wrath was not to be contested.

 _It might be safer for me to just survive what will come next,_ he decided. _Then to try to fight him when it is unlikely that I will succeed…_

He did not even touch the glass. Lithuania returned to the room empty-handed, but when he was left unpunished for leaving this room, Latvia brought himself to go too. Fear struck him, that Latvia might take a shard and put himself into extreme danger. When he returned, Lithuania looked all over his face to see if anything had changed. Nothing had, but when Latvia sat beside him, he whispered into his ear, " _Did you..._?"

Latvia understood, and shook his head no. Both stared at Russia, afraid that even here he would hear them, and see them despite how his head lay on the carpet. His answer had allowed relief to rush through Lithuania though, so he hugged Latvia's shivering body and squeezed warmth into him.

" _I knew it would be bad_ ," Latvia murmured. " _I-I… don't want to make him mad_."

" _Yeah_ …" came Lithuania's sympathetic sigh. " _We'll just… get through this_ …"

* * *

"Come on, America! Get up!"

America's eyes flickered at the frantic tone. Shaking hands jerked his body up and down until he groaned and put out his hands to stop it. He felt the softness of a cravat, then he was finally able to make out the blurry form of the person over him.

"Ow, ow... France, what're you doing...?"

America pawed at him, but France grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Something bad has happened!" France gasped. "People are… You have to do something!"

He wobbled to stay upright, rubbing his head and taking in the news. The pain of his injuries from the fight regenerated but now he cringed at the tender spot on his temple. It hurt to move his head side-to-side to examine the cafeteria, but he soon caught onto France's desperation when he spotted Germany right beside him, still on the ground.

"Oh crap!" America dove down to check on him. France stepped after him, pulling at his shoulder to bring his attention to more pressing matters.

"That's not all," France breathed. "People are missing. Russia-"

"The dark! Shit- oh shit!" America cried. "He took them and-"

He espied Britain and Japan sprawled out on the floor by the entrance to the hall.

"He knocked us out!" he burst out. "He could see, he-he had night vision! Russia planned this! He had to have been prepared, and then…" America trembled as all the pieces falling into place. He spun around and paced in different directions, unsure of where to take himself. "He planned to trap us here! He caused the collapse! Russia was playing us all the entire time, that commie shit!"

America strode toward the door, yanking his hair and proclaiming, "I can't believe I trusted him! But you can't trust him as far as you can throw his heavy ass! Where the _fuck_ is he?"

He abandoned everyone and dashed into the hall. America perked at movement at the end of the hall, but realized promptly that it was only Canada. He bolted towards him, towards a haunted face with two shining eyes.

"Canada!" America gasped. "Have you seen-"

"A-America…" Canada choked as he came closer. "The way up…"

America arrived at his side, his face instantly mirroring Canada's as he beheld what had become of the stairwell.

"He blocked it off," Canada whispered. "And everyone… they're up there with them."

"Oh no," America inhaled. "Oh no, no, no…"

"A-and…" Canada continued in a stressed breath. "I saw that all the knives from the kitchen are g-gone…"

"Oh my god. No way."

"There's only… seven of us downstairs…"

A stream of rapid and frightened swears escaped him before America launched himself at the blockage. His hands locked onto a chunk of a table and yanked it down toward him. Once the legs slid out however, the mound quivered and an avalanche of wood, metal, plaster, and ice tumbled down for him. Canada had foreseen the event and was already snatching hold of his suit, pulling him away. The rubble descended and settled; America went rigid beside Canada and let out a faltering exhale.

"What am I going to do?" America whispered hurriedly. "Th-there's no time but I-I have to…!"

Canada squeezed his own arms to his sides, forcing out, "You don't think that he would actually…"

"He better not be that stupid- he _can't_ be that stupid!" America shook his head repeatedly. "He wouldn't hurt them because he _knows_ I will get to him. He knows, doesn't he, Canada? So he wouldn't do anything to them…"

"I don't know," Canada murmured. "I… don't know anything about him. What he would do, I mean..."

"That psycho! The manipulating, power-hungry… This was all a trap, but for what? Russia wanted us to be indebted to him because he 'saved' us? Because he could control us by playing with our feelings, like he did with mine?"

America stomped a foot and glared at the rubble blockage.

"What the hell does he _want_?" His holler echoed down the hall. "Is he slaughtering them? Is this his plan B because we failed to become his friends? Did he just take all the damn knives to kill us?"

Silence crawled in after his yells faded from existence. Canada looked to the floor for a while, listening to America's strained breathing. When Canada spoke again, he whispered, "We'll get up there. We'll stand by you, you know we will… We will save them, America. They'll be alright and Russia will be dealt with."

America did not answer at first. It took some time for his breathing to calm and for his quivering to cease with the relaxing of his muscles. Finally, his shoulders dropped. He brushed flakes of blood from his face and murmured, "They're just above us… We would be able to hear their screams, wouldn't we?"

"Yeah…"

"It's quiet."

"It is."

"But you were knocked out too, weren't you? Russia knocked us all out. There was a time when there might have been…" he trailed off, becoming worried once more.

"I don't know how much time has passed," Canada said. "I woke in the kitchen and I went to check but… since the power restarted, the oven clock went to midnight. All I could tell you is how long I've been up, but not much time passed before you woke up too."

"Who else is here?" America sighed.

"Austria's in the kitchen, still unconscious. France is up and we are too. Then there's Germany, Japan, and Britain, all out cold but alright otherwise."

"Russia got so many… threatened them all." Then America's eyebrows shot up. "Hold on- what else did he take? Did he steal our supplies too?"

Canada jolted then both whirled around and rushed to the kitchen. They sped past the unconscious bodies and France, who then hurried after them to see what the panic was all about. America bounded to the fridge, shouted out in horror and outrage, then slammed the door shut and examined the cupboards. He skipped over Austria, viewing the empty knife rack and the missing packets of gum.

"Gone!" America cried. "He just K.O'd us and took just about everything!"

"So he intends to stay up there for a while," France murmured.

Canada caught onto the point. "So that means that he will feed them. He wouldn't need all that for himself."

America nodded slowly.

"So he's still trying to win them over, being the hand that feeds them. The blockade then, is so I don't interrupt." America pulled his lips to one side. "It could still mean though that he will hurt them. At least he isn't planning to kill them, though."

"What is the plan then?" France asked.

"The way up is blocked and he has the knives…" America rubbed his face. "We have to carefully remove everything, then bring up weapons of our own to defend ourselves with… What can we use?"

"Pans?" Canada suggested. "They would help with defending ourselves from knives too."

"Blunt metal. Good," America agreed. "So then, when everyone wakes we'll get right on with taking out that blockage. Hopefully we can make the whole thing fall an avalanche or something. For now though, let's make sure everyone's okay."

Austria was attended to first as he was just by their feet. Seeing that it was not necessary to have three dealing with one person, America walked off and Canada followed him, leaving France to wake Austria. Canada went to Germany and that left America to stalk quickly over to Britain and Japan.

There was nothing wrong with them except for their old injuries from the collapse and the new bruises to their heads. They were like marks that connected them, varying only in colour and shape between the individuals. America thought, _And now we know why Prussia had a bruise there. Prussia did or knew something and Russia didn't like it._

Britain and Japan were close enough that he could shake them both simultaneously. Eventually annoyed and pained grumbles filtered past Britain's lips. When his eyes opened and caught sight of America, he groaned, "America… we tried to stop him…"

"I did too. It's okay."

Japan shifted and blinked up and over at them. America decided to dive right into the explanation of what had occurred.

"Russia took most of us upstairs, against their will. There's only seven of us down here and he blocked the stairs so we can't get to the others right now. But, they're probably alive because he also stole a bunch of supplies. Food, gum, all the knives… It's obvious now that he had a plan this whole time and it failed, so he went nuts and did this. I think he planned to get us trapped in the building so he could trick us into becoming his 'friends'."

"That sounds about right," Britain confirmed. "I always did think that there were gaps in his story, but you weren't willing to listen for a while."

"I know. Sorry… I see it now."

"I don't believe he ever called for help as he said," Britain went on. "You never searched him. He probably didn't even have a phone, but if he did, I'll wager that there is nothing on his call log to prove that he ever called someone."

"I get that, but how did he do it anyways?" America wondered. "Collapse the building, I mean. I know the weather was supposed to be fine that day."

"I don't know if he hacked the forecast or whatnot, but we'll ask him when we get to him. For now, what are we going to do?"

"If you're good, we're going to go kick his ass."

"Now?" Japan asked.

"Right now. It's hero time."

America glanced back to see how Canada was faring. He noticed that Germany was kneeling and appearing quite upset. America turned back to Britain and helped him up, steadying him and inquiring, "You sure you're okay? How's your back?"

"No better no worse. I'm perfectly able to aid you."

Japan had managed to bring himself up before America got the chance to help him. He touched his arm though and asked him, "And you?"

"I'm okay."

They could suddenly hear Germany's voice rising.

" _Italy is missing too_?"

Canada had just given them the list of who was remaining on this level. Prussia was unfortunate but not a surprise, yet based off who Russia had chosen to take with him, Italy was unexpected. America was at least glad that Germany seemed motivated through his fury.

"I think we're ready," America commented after observing his reaction.

* * *

With nothing else to do, they tried to rest until Russia got up. None of them found that they could, and it was only a struggle to keep warm in this frigid air. The room was filled for a while only by the sound of breathing, but then the time came when there was a rustle. All looked up and over as Hungary shifted wearily in Russia's hold, eyes half-open as she took a few seconds to figure out where she was. She saw the arm before she felt it, and her mind promptly figured out exactly who the owner of such a large hand and arm was.

Russia had not been roused by her initial stirring, so he was shocked awake when she spun and writhed in his hold, letting out a vehement cry then punching his face. His head snapped back and automatically her knee came up and struck his gut, cutting off his holler by forcing another one from him. Russia launched away as her vicious, swift attacks continued, scrambling to his feet then adjusting himself into a stance. He was ready, but Hungary rushed to her feet then skidded back, discontinuing the assault for now.

The towel slid off her neck and the cut became visible to all. No one said a word though as Russia touched the stream of blood leaking from his nose. Sharp inhales were emitted from the Baltic cluster in the room as red wet his fingertips. A glare fixated itself on Hungary, but she was so full of anger that she snarled regardless, "What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

Hungary swept her eyes around the room, taking notice of the new location and the missing people.

"Where are we?" she demanded. "What happened? Where is everyone?"

Russia was still caught up on her reaction to him and was not in the mood to explain everything to her. "Why did you do that?" he uttered. "I wasn't hurting you."

Everyone except for the three were still giving him wary and upset looks. Hungary did as well, and reached up to delicately touch her scabbed wound.

" _Why_?" she hissed. "You are asking me _why_?"

"You were wrong about what you saw," Russia said. "And what happened to you was only accident."

Hungary's eyes sharpened. Russia was surprised, not having had faced such fury from her in a long time. He did not let the others see it though, just how surprised he was.

"I saw you," Hungary spat, "standing over Prussia with the knife. He was already hurt, motionless on the floor. I tried to save him from you, then you cut me!"

Russia growled, "That was Prussia's knife. _Prussia_ attacked _me_ and I had to disarm him. He is very bad and so are you. I was never intending to use the knife and now both of you are trying to make me look bad."

Hungary snapped her head from side-to-side, gasping when she could not find Prussia. "Where is he?" she yelped. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Russia muttered.

"He's not here! You did something! What did you do?"

Russia twitched. "I said, nothing."

"Where is everyone else?" she cried. "Why are we here? Where is America?"

His patience snapped.

"Don't mention his name again to me." His eyes flared with hot light. "You don't need America. You only need me."

He bristled as Hungary swept eyes of despair over the confines of the room. Russia was growing ever the more irritated at those constant fearful and angry faces. He understood if he was threatening them, but at times when he was not he did not comprehend why they acted as though he was.

"Stop doing this," Russia stated. "I am not planning to hurt you. I am being kind now. There is no need to be treating me in this way."

He hated that they were not agreeing with him. For some reason, Russia did not even have Cuba or China supporting him. He wondered why, and looked over at them. Something had startled them at that time, but they then gave him encouraging looks. They wanted him to defend himself; the others were not going to listen to them anyway.

 _They want me to show my feelings,_ Russia thought. _But I can't do that. It won't work._

Russia wanted everyone to know nevertheless how displeased he was by how unjust he thought they were being to him. He also was growing concerned about the passing time, knowing that he was going to have to take action since America was sure to be up.

"We will work now," Russia decided. "We will dig for the exit and put the rubble on stairs."

The word _exit_ encouraged them. They realized then, that if they could dig fast enough, they could escape soon. If they could get to their coats too, they would have their car keys before then. Russia was glad when they stood up quickly, following his orders without hassle. Everyone padded out into the hall, but Russia was swift to warn them not to go into any of the rooms.

"You will take everything down to the end of the hall. This is it. Walk only in straight line."

And so it was that as America's group tackled the barricade, Russia's put more into it than they could take out. Sometimes there was a crashing sound near the bottom. Russia stood by the stairwell for a while, hands in the sweater's front pocket and listening. He was certain that they were digging upwards down there, but the occasional holler of familiar voices told him they were making no progress.

Russia had far more on his side aiding him, in a line and passing rubble toward the blockage like a conveyor belt. Production was good; Russia smiled. He was going to be safe from America. Such relief filled him at this thought that his annoyance was fading and he felt a rush of happiness. He regarded the workers, some struggling with the weight of damaged property, and he felt delight from their presences.

Russia helped them for a time so they would not resent him for standing there. He enjoyed packing more and more into the barricade, feeling more confident with every piece stuffed into it.

 _It is much easier being on top!_ he thought, thinking of both levels and power. It amused him to imagine America's frustration and despair, as he became aware of Russia's superiority.

 _Now you will know what it feel like to be separated and helpless!_

His body bobbed slightly with his internal laugh.

 _Maybe it is as I thought before. It is much more satisfying to knock him down._

It was so easy to think this when he could not remember his gentle touch, the one that was not hostile or hiding a secret behind it. Russia had no urge anymore to be close to America, when he had so many up here that he could be close with instead.

"I don't need America," Russia crept up to the worker closest to him, which happened to be Lithuania. "Right? You guys will be my friends. I will make sure."

Lithuania sent his perturbed look to the wall. Latvia observed the scene and started to shiver since he was included in his statement. Russia smiled and hovered by him, seeming to be about to touch him but did not as Lithuania continued to work. He was afraid to stop, but the anxiety of not knowing when or if Russia was going to touch him was driving him insane. He wondered if Russia was stressing him on purpose, letting him know that it was his choice if he would do it or not, not Lithuania's.

Finally, after a grueling minute of Russia standing behind him as Lithuania passed pieces from left to right, Russia said, "I like it when you hair is up, Lithuania. Too bad you lost your elastic."

Lithuania blinked, processing the random statement.

"What?"

"I should see if there is one around here. Wouldn't you like that, with your hair out of your eyes?"

He felt that there was only one answer. Lithuania replied, "Yes… Russia."

Russia drifted away and strode up the hall. Lithuania had never been touched and his body gave out a massive shiver, as though it could not handle being without something it had expected. Now it only felt that Russia had taken something from him instead, without ever laying a finger on him.

He went into the wrong rooms first, to throw off those who were watching him. Russia stopped briefly in the washroom, washing the blood from his face and hands, then taking a look at the glass he would have to deal with later. After this, Russia went into the room he had stored everything, to locate Poland's brush.

There were regular black elastics looped around the end of it. Russia tucked it into the front pouch of the sweater then walked out as though he had found nothing. He wanted to investigate a few more rooms so that Lithuania would not know where he had got this from, so Russia ended up visiting Prussia's room.

He walked in and closed the door before he switched on the light, making sure that no one had seen a preview of the trembling figure kneeling on the floor. His forearms were bound behind his back with duct tape that twisted like rope and wrapped around a leg of the desk. A ball of the tape was jammed into his mouth, a makeshift gag that had a gray coil securing it around his head. Prussia's pupils narrowed in the sudden bath of light upon him, then his rosy eyes flashed up to him and widened at Russia's small smile.

"It is good that you stayed, Prussia."

Russia knew that Prussia could escape the tape if he wanted to. He was strong enough for that, but too afraid to do it. Russia had told him that he would know if he had even pulled himself free then reattached himself, if the tape was not wrapped around the desk's leg exactly as he had wrapped it. So there was nothing for Prussia to do, but remain fixed in this uncomfortable position and quake in the cold. Russia observed the pale goosebumps on his arms with satisfaction and tilted his head.

"You are so cold," Russia whispered and came nearer. "But it could have been much worse, couldn't it?"

Prussia's eyes shone as he looked down, no longer able to make eye contact with Russia. He shivered in silence.

"You should be happy. I am so kind to you. Aren't you happy that this is all I am doing to you?"

Russia bent forward and placed a hand on his upper arm. About an hour here, and Prussia's skin was ice-cold. It was perfect; Russia gave him just a taste of heat, and such an effect it had. Prussia's eyes watered without his control and he tried to lean into the warmth, but that was when Russia denied him of it. He backed off, leaving him alone again.

"You were bad," Russia told him. "Very bad. Why should I help you when you hurt me?"

Prussia trembled violently, feeling the heat on his arm vanishing degree after degree. Russia slipped out into the hall and left him alone, so Prussia could stare at the spot he had departed from.

Seeing Prussia had reminded him of the other person he had previously needed to keep quiet: Ukraine. The reminder of Ukraine caused him to recall his ill-considered uproar in the washroom, when his dissatisfaction from his treatment by the entering guests had peaked. There was glass on the floor, he realized again, except he remembered now that he had allowed anyone to go into the washroom while he had slept.

Russia could not believe he had forgotten that. He did not go directly to Lithuania now, but hurried to Cuba and whispered to him, "Who went to the washroom while I was taking the nap?"

"Lithuania and Latvia," he reported in a murmur.

Russia inhaled. He looked back to Lithuania, deciding now it was more necessary than ever to get him alone. He stalked toward him, the brush bouncing between the hands in his pocket.

"Okay, Lithuania." He came back close again. "You will come with me now."

Lithuania swallowed and stood still, unsure what to do with what he was holding. Russia bid him to put it into the stairwell first, then follow him. He did all this without protest, head down as Poland, Estonia, Latvia, and Ukraine watched him leaving with concern. Belarus glanced up, wondering what was happening, but did nothing to support him.

" _Lithuaniaaa_ ," Russia sang quietly, with a disturbing serving of fake cheer. He clicked his tongue, pushed open a random door, then flicked on the light. Russia led him inside, making sure to close it behind him to keep them from being heard. Lithuania stood with his hands clasped together, waiting for what was to come, and hoping it would be a false alarm. He had a feeling this had to do with the glass. Lithuania was ever the more glad that he had taken none.

"I have a present for you," Russia said. "But only if you were good. I know you went into the washroom, but you did not take any glass, right?"

"N-no," Lithuania answered. "Of course not."

Russia walked back up to him.

"Take your shirt off, Lithuania. I have to know if I can believe you."

Lithuania removed all the layers on his torso, thinking that once he had passed inspection, he was going to be safe from punishment. He bared his upper body to the freezing air, folding his arms around himself to save what warmth he could. Russia reached down and plucked each article of clothing, shaking and patting it to make sure nothing was there.

Russia started nodding, but his face showed that he was not completely satisfied yet. "Now your pants too," he muttered.

Lithuania had already done this before, when Russia had cleaned his cuts. It was even more uncomfortable when standing however. Lithuania shed them but stayed leaning over, turning a shade pink as he covered what he could. Russia snatched his pants and held them up, checking them thoroughly before tossing them over Lithuania's back. But still he was not done, and Lithuania froze as he jammed his hands down his socks, then circled around him with his eyes evidently searching his underwear for any unnatural lumps.

By now Lithuania was red and shaking, but Russia's expression had only relaxed at the discovery of nothing. Lithuania started redressing himself, feeling relief with every layer returned and covering him. Russia was soon praising him, purring, "You are smart, Lithuania. How good it was that you did not arm yourself. That would not have been a friend thing to do, hmm?"

Lithuania had all his clothes back on now. Russia waved him to follow him to the nearest wall and sit down beside him. Lithuania did, feeling that he had secured himself into a safe Russia mood, or at least for now. He made Lithuania turn his back to him, then Russia snuck out the hot pink brush and brought it to his hair. Russia grasped parts carefully, removing the tangles at the ends before working on the higher ones.

He made sure not to yank but to work slow and gently. Lithuania soon asked him after hesitating with his fear, "Russia… where did you get that?"

Russia did not want to say the truth. He could only imagine how it would be taken.

"I found it," he murmured. "There are elastics on it too."

Lithuania knew the response had been too vague to be anything but a lie. Russia kept brushing his hair until it was utterly smooth, then he slipped an elastic over his wrist. He started collecting the brown, making sure it was perfectly aligned and neat. With quick movements from practice on doing this with his sisters, Russia tied Lithuania's hair into a secure bun that left a few strands hanging at the front. A little more than his usual was tied back, but Russia much preferred it. He looked even more contained and organized now.

Russia made sure to tell him this. He patted his hair and stroked fingers over the smooth plane of hair over his crown, breathing his compliments into his neck. Lithuania tried not to stiffen in discomfort, but then Russia pressed in and hugged him. He jolted. He did not want this. He had not even wanted his hair to be handled by Russia- he would have preferred to keep his tangled nest. Lithuania could not stand all this, Russia doing whatever he wanted to him without permission. Like he was an object of his.

"Why did you do that?" Russia drew his head back and glared, referring to his twitch.

Lithuania knew Russia would go on about how he should appreciate his kindness, and in a way he had to. This was still better than being harmed, and here he only had those two options.

"I got a chill," Lithuania replied.

"Are you cold?"

Lithuania regretted his answer, but it was really all he could have said to not anger him. Russia sat against the wall and tossed the brush away, before pulling Lithuania around and into him, with some force so that it hurt slightly. Lithuania felt like a doll, being taken every which way its owner pleased. He frowned as Russia brought him in right against his front, where he could feel everything. His chest expanded and collapsed against his back and Russia's arms tightened around him. His legs rose to press into his sides, creating a box of warmth for him.

But the limbs all around him only made him feel as though a spider captured him. Lithuania would not be able to struggle, even if he wanted too. Russia brought his face down and touched it to his hair, feeling a warmth burst in his chest as he did so. He crooned to him, "Lithuania… such a nice friend. I am happy you changed your mind about me. You trust me now..."

Russia bent lower and dropped his face down by the side of his head. He pressed his temple against Lithuania's ear and sighed, "Because you see how I don't want to hurt you. That I won't because you are being nice to me too."

Lithuania did not confirm this. Russia went on to believe it, since it seemed that Lithuania was relaxed and comfortable where he was. There was no indication otherwise. Lithuania kept himself still however, as Russia shifted again to press his face against his cheek. He felt it briefly, then it retracted. Lithuania was confused on why it left, but then his face came back and touched the corner of his jaw.

That was when he got his suspicions.

 _Is he…?_

He was not entirely sure, because there had been no pressure. No sound at all. But then he felt what was undoubtedly Russia's lips just touching his hair now. It was enough to confirm it and throw Lithuania into a panic.

"What are you doing?" Lithuania yelped.

His body thrashed and Russia's confused, "Hmm?" ended with a gasp. He let go in his surprise, eyes wide in astonishment as Lithuania tumbled away from him. Lithuania spun and shot up to his feet, rubbing his face as though cleaning away specks of mud.

"You- you were kissing me!" Lithuania exclaimed. "N-no! Don't d-do that!"

Russia felt a tightening in his chest and he tried to explain, "But, Lithuania-"

"That is not what is means to be nice!" Lithuania cried. "You think it is, but it is not! I don't want that! You keep doing things to me without my consent!"

"I think you misunderstand," Russia started. "Those weren't really-"

"We are not yours!" Lithuania shook and gasped. "We're not your property!"

"I know this, I know. I am only treating you like family."

"Family? No! Not again! Y-you aren't taking us… we aren't reforming the Soviet Union!"

Russia furrowed his eyebrows. "I never said that… Why are you saying that?"

"R-Russia…" Lithuania trembled more, afraid of the things he was saying that could invoke a dangerous reaction from Russia. "You took us up here. Only us… the former members."

"No, no. There's China and Cuba."

"Communist… all of us…"

Russia said, "This was not on purpose. I did not notice this."

"You want it! You want to be possessing us again!" Lithuania stepped away hurriedly. "That was your plan. You wanted us to get close to you, so you could grab hold of us again!"

"No, Lithuania. This is not true. I only want to be your friend. I really want to be your friend."

Lithuania made it closer to the door, heart pounding although Russia had not gotten up to pursue him. He snapped his head from Russia to his escape, then he flashed out of the room into the hall. Everyone had already stopped and had been heading to the door after hearing his yells.

"The Soviet Union?" Latvia whispered hoarsely.

Lithuania nodded slowly. He backed away from the door and slipped into the false sense of protection the crowd offered.

Estonia gasped, "Oh, how did we not see it? All of us, here- we were owned by him… except…" Now he sent a glare toward Cuba and China. "Those two. They were his allies and they are again."

"Hold on a second!" China exclaimed. "Russia never said anything to us about reforming the Soviet Union. I don't think that is right!"

"It is not." Russia peeled open the door and stepped into the hall. "I don't want to go back to those times either. Believe me…"

Russia looked at all of them, who had stopped working entirely. Discomfort began to bud within him. Russia said, "Let's get back to working now. We have to hurry."

"Stop making us do things we don't want to!" Lithuania gasped. "You don't own us. We are people!"

"I know this!" Russia cried. "But we have to do this. You want to go home, don't you?"

"We will dig," Estonia supported Lithuania, "but because we want to get out of here. We don't want to block America from us though."

"You have to," Russia uttered. "Fast. We have to go."

"You're just going to keep them down there to starve?" Ukraine inhaled. "Russia, we can't trap them like that!"

"Just for now," he replied, casting a worried glance down the hall. "We'll dig them out once we get to the outside. I promise it."

"We want America," Lithuania murmured, shaking from his own words. "We… don't want to be with you. We don't want to be owned by you."

Russia stammered, "But we are friends! This is all! I never said you were mine. I don't want the Soviet Union back. Why don't you listen? America must have made you believe this. But I am done with communism. I have been done for over twenty years! Why can't you see that I am different?"

"You aren't!" Poland proclaimed. "You're just as scary as before!"

"No, no! Look at me. I have these warm clothes. I have my flag, do you see? It is not red. It is not. So much is different."

Russia was grasping at straws now. Most of them were recoiling now, and Hungary spat, "We don't care about your flag. We're only looking at you."

 _Don't show them how hurt you are_ , Russia told himself, before saying, "Why don't you see how hard I am trying? Lithuania… I was just trying to show him how nice I could be. How much I love him and everyone."

"You don't know what that word means!" Poland exclaimed. "You're using it wrong because you got like some crazy definition for it!"

Russia watched the end of the hall, hardly listening as he believed he had seen the blockade shift down slightly. His heart thudded and he commanded them, "Work! We have to get back to working now!"

"We won't add to the barrier," Estonia stated. "Not anymore."

"America cannot come here! Block it, now!"

"Don't tell us what to do!" Poland chipped back.

Russia squirmed internally. In his mind's eye, he pictured America clawing rubble away, tossing them to the side like paper and crawling up each step. Coming closer, closer- with his group ready to attack him all at once. America, Canada, Britain, Japan, even injured Germany… then everyone else might grow excited like foxes in a coop, consumed by blood lust and jumping upon him to tear him apart. He could not allow them the hope America would bring. Russia wanted to protect himself.

As before, he tensed up and set a cold expression on his face to appear strong, but he was terrified on the inside in reality.

"I said, _now_!" Russia snapped, eyes still on the shifting blockade.

He did not appear strong enough. They were growing confident again and Russia could not have this. Trying to keep his stressed tremor from his voice, Russia called upon Belarus, "Get them. From the room. Do it now!"

She understood, but took some moments before she dashed down the hall, taking no time to disguise which room she was getting the knives from.

 _Did she hesitate?_ Russia quivered in fear and rage. Too long she had taken to react, and now he felt betrayed.

"Knives." Lithuania shook. "Y-you are insane… you will probably hold one against me next, to make me kiss you, won't you?"

He had said too much. Russia's shoulders flared out and he growled through gritted teeth, "You don't understand anything. I think you should keep your mouth shut."

Belarus charged back. Russia snatched a knife from her before anyone could react, then he pointed it toward them.

"Now _go_. Be working or I will poke you."

The knife changed everything. Full of restrained emotions, they dashed back into their line and began shuttling material back down toward the stairwell, filling it up again. But then Russia stopped them from taking from the blockage by the entrance. He commanded them to take rubble from the rooms, and they knew why he had wanted this.

He did not want them to go home so soon.

The blockage in the stairwell built up so much that it began to be packed into the hall. Russia felt his fear draining away, but he could not feel happy this time. He still had one more thing to take care of.

"No one else went into the washroom, did they?" Russia asked Cuba again, quietly.

"No." Cuba frowned, sneaking peeks at the knife in his hand.

"Okay."

Russia's eyes locked onto his target. Latvia froze to his spot as Russia headed toward him with a terrifyingly serious expression on his face. It made him desperately wonder what he had done and what was going to be done with him. Latvia had tried to stay out of the last mini rebellion. He had not wanted to say anything to offend Russia, as he often did by accident.

He had tried to protect himself.

 _Where did I go wrong?_

"Latvia," Russia whispered to him, his hand tightening around his knife. "I want you to follow me."

His legs wobbled. Latvia thought he was going to swoon, but his feet trudged forward because he was too afraid of failing to obey him. Russia seemed unable to tolerate his slow, feathery steps, and ended up snatching his arm and pulling him away. He stopped however, to address Belarus, who had an extra knife tucked against her hip because Russia had not taken it.

"I want you to make sure they keep working," Russia muttered. "No breaks until I am done. Use that if you have to."

He stared at her knife. She looked down at it, keeping her face neutral. Latvia gasped when Russia yanked him back along, all the way down the hall into a room. Only China was around here, and it would be harder for the others to hear Latvia if he were to yell like Lithuania had. Russia kicked the door shut, the bang startling Latvia into crying. He fidgeted, his tears running free now that he was alone with Russia in the dark.

"R-Russia…" Latvia whimpered. "What d-did I do?"

The light flickered on. Latvia gasped at Russia's expression and proximity. He came even closer, the flat of the blade resting against his thigh.

"We'll see, won't we, Latvia?" was all Russia replied with.


	14. Глаза- Eyes

**Reviews are awesome. I would surely enjoy some.**

* * *

America dropped back from the barricade, his arms falling limply as he gasped, "We're going nowhere!"

When he stopped, the others finally collapsed, most to cradle their specific injuries. Britain sighed from his spot against the wall, "They must still be blocking it, so Russia's got them up and working."

Canada walked near to America to murmur, "If they are working, they should hopefully be alright."

America backed away further from the stairwell, casting an exhausted look to the seemingly insurmountable blockage. His stomach clenched from hunger and his body felt absolutely inclined to a physical and mental break from it all.

"They'll have to stop eventually," he exhaled. "At night maybe? There's got to be a time where they're not piling stuff onto this, and that's when we dig like crazy."

"Then we can afford to take a break," Germany muttered, holding his broken arm gently. "If that's what we're going to do."

America admitted, "I don't want to stop, but I have a feeling Russia knows we're trying to get out now and that's why he's doing this. He might see what we're doing- he might even hear us. If we make him think we gave up though, maybe he'll calm down. Then, we attack."

Nods all around for this idea. America then started down the hall, calling out, "Alright, lunch anybody?"

The group trailed their leader to kitchen, loudly discussing with each other their displeasure of being even more trapped than before, of the assurance that no help was coming, and that they would have to take matters into their own hands. Most voiced their plans for what they would do to Russia once they got their hands on him. The more emotional they grew, the louder they became, until it caused a door in the hall before them to slowly pull back with a creak.

Startled, they froze as half a face slid out to peek at them. It took only a blink for all of them to be recognized, and for that brown eye and hair to be as well. Italy sprang out from the washroom, crying out in a relieved and ecstatic tone, "You guys!"

Germany was the most stunned, his heart freezing in the struggle to determine if this was reality. But it was true; Russia had not stolen him away. Germany gasped in relieved rapture, "Italy, you're here!"

Italy pranced up to them and he threw himself into Germany. Both trembled slightly in joy to see that the other had survived the horrifying events of the dark. Germany slung his arms around him while the others could only look on in amazement.

France noticed the lack of a bruise on Italy's head. He breathed, "So he didn't get you?"

Italy slipped away and took turns hugging the others in his relief, explaining his story at the same time.

"I heard everything. Whenever someone got hurt and yelled… When Britain and Japan went quiet I knew I was alone. Russia starting coming and I knew I was next, so I ran!" His speech picked up as he took in less breaths. "I went into the washroom and locked the door, then I locked myself into a stall too! And then I waited a long time, even after the power came back. It was terrifying! I knew that if he got America, then a really bad thing was going to happen to me!"

"That was good," Germany murmured. "I'm glad you did that. He doesn't have you…"

"So we have one more now." America thought back to the strategical advantage. "You can help us."

"Help you with what?" Italy drew back from France and closed his eyes.

"Russia blocked the entire staircase," Austria replied. "And you probably know, but he took everyone else up with him."

"He blocked the stairs?" And it was true that he had known about the abductions. He had heard the screams.

"Yep," America stated. "So we'll need your help getting up to rescue everyone."

"You can do that, Italy," Germany assured him. "We won't make you fight. We will take care of Russia ourselves."

Italy nodded, fine with this proposition. As long as it was clear that he was not going to throw himself into combat, especially against Russia.

"But we'll just… hang around for some time until Russia drops his guard." America started back toward the kitchen. Italy caught on, understanding that food was to be had, which would be a pleasant break from all that had happened. The only unfortunate part was that the kitchen floor was stained in dried blood and splatters stuck to many surfaces. Memories were ignited and the stress caused some to depart the room, but the mess of the cafeteria did not help either.

America left them to fix up the tables and chairs as he prepared plates with Britain and Canada's help. There was not much to work with since Russia had taken the choice of the leftovers. America tossed a whole onion up and caught it, before shaking his head.

"I hope we get out before I have to eat this," he sighed, placing it back and taking out an opened bag of apples. There were only four left in the ripped plastic. America yanked it out then took a container of Russian food he could not identify.

"Now I understand why he was making so much food," Britain said. "He was preparing for a large group to be trapped here for days."

"He planned everything," America muttered with a tense jaw. "This building? It was probably made just for this purpose. His boss would have endorsed it. I can imagine it. 'Make the world see Russia differently,' he tells him. "Make them think Russia is an ally, not an enemy. Get them to trust you and find out their secrets.' God I hate Russia. A building with no windows on its lower levels? He could never explain it, so I can't believe I didn't press it more!"

"What's done is done," Canada sighed. "But now you know to never be so incautious again."

"For sure."

They cut up the apples and split up the last of the microwavable food. Each plate had even portions of each item, then were given out with water to those waiting at tables in the cafeteria. America sat down and noticed a crack across the surface of this table, then looked around at those tables and chairs too broken to stand up again. He wondered how much it had cost to set them all up, to make it look as though many people actually worked here. The computers, desks, washrooms… all the little things that would have had to be planned.

And the more he thought about how deep Russia's plan to _befriend_ them had been, the angrier America felt. He felt like a fool, and violated in a sense. He had treated Russia and been treated by him in ways that had not happened before. America felt used like a chess piece, one that despised the board made for it.

So America looked at the cracks on the tables and chairs, hoping that the ones he saw had been caused when he had hit Russia. The small smear of blood on the floor a bit aways, remembered as when he had repeatedly slammed Russia's head off it, filled him with satisfaction. He could easily do it again and still feel nothing for him.

In fact, the memory of his light, almost non-kisses on his face made him _want_ to do it again.

* * *

Russia stayed where he was, but uttered lowly, "I know you saw the glass in the washroom. You didn't pick any of it up, did you, Latvia?"

He had known this would come sooner or later, but he had not expected the presence of the knife. Latvia sniffed, "N-no…" and gave it a despairing look. Russia came closer and Latvia shrunk into himself, holding his hands together and hunching over.

"You don't like me," Russia breathed. "I think you were going to hurt me. Such a cruel thing to do, when I was only going to be your friend."

"I d-didn't take anything," Latvia whispered.

"You are so weak, that the glass would be your only chance…" Russia dropped his hand onto Latvia's shoulder. Latvia froze up in escalating fear, feeling Russia's fingers feeling the bump of a thick, healing scratch that ran from his shoulder down the length of his arm. It was hidden under his suit, but Russia had remembered where his injuries were from the time he had washed them.

 _That's why he insisted on washing us…_ Latvia thought. _Now he knows our weak spots…_

Russia did not put down any pressure yet, but the weight of his hand was already causing him to squirm.

"I didn't, I didn't…"

Latvia grew terrorized as Russia's fingers trailed the cut down his arm. But the hand slid off and Russia murmured, "If you are being honest to me, Latvia, I will be happy. But you have to prove it, so take off your clothes."

"All- all of them?"

"Most of them."

Latvia shook as Russia loomed over him, and he was barely able to unbutton and unzip. Yet Russia waited patiently, not touching him as he followed the command. He snatched every article of clothing, examined them, and then did a final check over Latvia as he had with Lithuania. He grew satisfied when nothing was found, feeling as though Latvia did not hate him like he thought he had.

"You did not want to attack me? That is good thing." The hand clutching the knife slackened a bit as Latvia finished redressing. "So you aren't planning to escape, right? You will give me chance?"

It did not matter if his grip was looser. As Russia came close again with the knife, Latvia's shivering increased. Russia tried to calm him, standing behind him and throwing his arms around his chest. His arms crossed and the knife happened to point out by Latvia's jugular, throwing him into a panic. He cried out and wriggled. Russia tossed the knife away then shushed him, and slowly Latvia returned to silent quivering.

"You feel so cold," Russia whispered. "Is it hard for you up here, being so small? I could help you. You can come to me anytime and I will hold you."

Latvia bit the inside of his cheeks to refrain from saying something stupid. He thought nonetheless, _He always wants to hold people… keeping them trapped with him and unable to escape. He likes that power, doesn't he? Feeling like he possesses us… like Lithuania said._

Latvia was not as brave as Lithuania, able to stand up and say what he did not want done to him. He could only tremble in the hug he wanted to reject. He started to cry though, as Russia touched his hair, and as he thought of downstairs where he would rather be barricaded from this.

Russia felt wetness on his palm. It did not take long for him to realize that Latvia was crying, and get upset about it. Latvia gasped when he halted, knowing that Russia _knew_ and that trouble was coming.

"Why are you crying?" Russia demanded, and it seemed that hurt was stretching his voice. "I put the weapon away! I am being nice to you! Are you just like Lithuania? So rude to me and saying I am doing this to you without the consent, when if anyone else did this to you without asking, it is okay!"

Latvia was discarded so suddenly that he stumbled. Russia snatched his knife then grabbed Latvia by his forearm, dragging him to the corner to where some rubble was stored.

"I have to punish you," Russia uttered, "for being so mean to me."

Latvia let out a few little gasps but was too frightened to pull away. Russia pushed him toward the pile then pointed the knife at a huge chunk of ice.

"Pick it up."

Latvia's shining eyes widened and he stood for a moment in shock, before heading toward it. He grasped either end and pulled, arms wobbling ridiculously. Latvia's body bent back dangerously once he managed to heave the ice up to the height of his hips.

"Come on, Latvia. It is not that heavy, hmm?" Russia watched him with an unreadable expression. "You can lift it over your head."

"I can't do that..." Latvia whimpered.

"Do it."

"I-I'll drop it on my…"

"I want you to hold it over your head."

Latvia breathed rapidly as he pushed it higher, to his chest level. When it came close to his face, his eyes stretched open even wider and tears rushed out from them, once he saw the mass that could potentially crush his skull. He shook his head, sniffling, but Russia pressed, "I am wondering if you can do it."

Latvia remembered how close the knife was to him. He put the ice onto his head, using the rest of his body to hold it up. His spine felt compressed, but the pain was not enough. Russia told him to raise the ice up, to straighten his arms. Latvia did and he immediately started gasping and wailing rapidly, fighting to control his breathing. His body was faltering swiftly, his freezing hands losing control and threatening lose their holds on the sides of the ice. Latvia forced his muscles to hold on, sobbing as his joints crumpled and popped. He cried frantically, "I can't! R-Russia! I can't, I can't, I can't!"

The ice slipped from his left hand and Latvia screeched as he fought to reattain his grip. He failed and the ice dropped. Russia snapped out his left hand and caught the chunk, balancing its weight all in a single palm above Latvia's head. Latvia clutched himself and dropped to his knees, bawling as his heart raced out of control and he burned from adrenaline.

"You see, you need me," Russia stressed. "I am here to take care of you. Remember last time, when you almost fell over? I caught you."

Latvia stared up in terror at the ice hovering above him. He jolted away, but continued to watch Russia fearfully as he calmly held the ice with one straight arm, no strain present on his face. Latvia was being given a show of the difference of power between them, and it made him whimper at the thought of what Russia could do to him.

Russia tossed away the ice, saying, "I was never going to let you get hurt, Latvia."

But all his injuries throbbed like never before and Latvia was sitting in a great deal of pain. He flinched when Russia knelt down and murmured to him, "It's okay. You learned, didn't you? That I can always hurt you, but I haven't been this whole time. Do you see now? If I had wanted to break you, I would have."

Latvia bent over and sobbed. He thought he understood, that Russia was saying that he was kept alive to be used by him. If he did not want him anymore, he would get rid of him. Russia slid in and tried to hug him, but Latvia sprang back mindlessly with a shriek. Irritated, Russia lunged and yanked him in, sitting and accidentally pressing his thumb into the cut of Latvia's upper arm. Latvia writhed and caterwauled until Russia had pulled him in and was holding him tightly.

"No, no…" Latvia choked.

The knife was left to the side again to free up his hands. Russia restrained him, squeezing Latvia to him then reaching up his fingers to pet his hair. Latvia felt that he was caught up in a machine, the arms and legs like metal, unbreakable and unbendable. He cried ceaselessly, but Russia started shushing him. He covered his mouth. Latvia considered biting him, but knew it would not allow him to escape. He only continued crying until Russia's thumb pressed up under his jaw to keep his mouth closed, which hurt enough that Latvia decided to contain his sobs.

"I won't hurt you," Russia whispered. "It's okay."

But it wasn't, for he was currently being hurt. Latvia twitched with his muffled crying, hoping for someone to save him, and wondering why no one was coming. Had they not heard his screams? He could only think that perhaps Russia was too scary and they had abandoned him to his fate.

Russia hummed and uncovered his mouth, stroking his hair once more.

"Why are you shaking so much?" Russia asked, although not aggressively. "I won't make you lift anything else. Your punishment is over."

With the word _punishment_ being mentioned, Latvia remembered once more that Prussia was still missing. He did not believe now that Russia had told the truth about him, and he thought that the bad thing that might have happened to him was coming to him now.

Russia's humming gained a sad tune. He stopped, murmuring Russian into his ear, "Can you say something?"

Latvia knew he had to. But Russia's use of Russian confused him, so he stammered back in the same language, "Wh-what?"

Russia was pleased to hear his language spoken by him. He felt a little better, and decided he wanted to hear more of it. Perhaps too, talking could calm Latvia down.

"How do you feel?"

Latvia wondered, _How am I supposed to answer this?_

He could only force a strange sound from his throat. Latvia thought Russia would be mad, but again he was hard to predict. Russia set his face into his hair, his cold nose against his crown. He sighed, "My little Latvia… What can I do to make you feel better?"

 _My?_ Latvia's mind shrieked. _My? He thinks I'm his!_

"I am trying very hard," Russia went on, still in Russian. "I just want you to like me. You guys are always saying such terrible things about me and it is more than words. It is dangerous, don't you understand? Could you imagine what it would be like to be me, in a powerful position that you have to fight for? I don't have many allies. I have China but… I am not safe without friends. I need them…"

He did not want to sound weak, so Russia left the words _I need you too_ in his mind. Latvia did not sympathize with him however, hardly realizing that Russia had just opened up a bit to him in hopes of calming him. He had wanted to explain some reasons why, but Latvia had not even heard them through his fear.

"When… are we going back?" Latvia whispered in Russian, in hopes that perhaps it would spare him some of any coming trouble.

"Why do you want to go back already?"

"T-to work…"

"We will get out soon, don't worry. Breaks are okay now."

Latvia wanted to leave so desperately but there was nothing he could say to get to escape without Russia's allowance. At least nothing that would not change Russia's mood. He did not want to go through what he just had again; his body still felt ripped and damaged, limp in fatigue. But then Russia resumed touching his hair, as though it was a fuzzy rug that one could not stop running their hands through. The feeling of possession, that he was an object, returned, and Latvia could not help but squirm.

"Listen," Russia insisted suddenly, pulling his head back to his chest. Latvia gasped, not sure what he was meant to listen to since Russia had stopped talking. He stirred and moved against his sweater, trying for a moment to loosen his grip when one hand was off him.

"Hold still, Latvia. Just relax."

He had never even stopped shivering. Not for a moment, had he been still in Russia's embrace. Russia tried petting his hair again, like one would with a startled kitten to calm it to sleep. He thought it should work, since if someone had done it to him he would be sure to appreciate the gesture. Yet it did not and he could not understand it. Russia grew all the more frustrated, and he touched the side of his face and felt fresh dampness again.

"Why are you still crying?" he demanded.

"I-I…"

"I am doing so much for you. You don't have to be warm! I don't have to comfort you! But if you do not appreciate all of this… then why should I be so nice?"

Russia finally released him, collecting his knife and standing. Latvia stumbled forward then spun around, gazing over him in dread as he expected further punishment. Such a clenching tightness was felt in Russia's chest however, to have been rejected again and so soon after Lithuania. He had wanted to find a difference in Latvia, but his insides darkened as he believed that everyone was going to be the same. It hurt like rot eating at him, pulling away pieces of his heart, to think that there was nothing he could do to change this.

"But I have to make you my friend," Russia told himself. "I need you to understand my kindness."

Latvia, although free from his touch, knew he had not been permitted to leave.

"You cannot see the difference from when I am nice and when I have to punish you. You think I am always punishing you, and that I like it. It is not true. I will show you."

Russia beckoned him to come close by waving his knife. Latvia walked near and squeaked when he held his upper arm. Russia led him out from the room but soon halted in the hall. Gasps rang out and there pressed against the wall was Estonia and Lithuania, both with sheets of red spilling out from a horizontal line across their throats. Russia inhaled sharply and fell back.

Belarus was left untouched, a circle of emptiness around her as blood dripped off the end of her knife. Russia dropped back to English and cried at her, "What happened?"

"They… tried to get to you…" Belarus's voice was tight; she was worried. "I… did what you wanted me to…"

Lithuania had been glaring at her with a look of betrayal, but he now checked over Latvia. Russia's knife was dry but Latvia was under obvious and intense stress. He was obediently silent, but tears kept cascading from his face and especially so after seeing what had happened to Estonia and Lithuania.

Russia's pulse jumped and he moaned, "No… This is bad! He might see those cuts. They weren't supposed to be hurt!"

"I didn't know what you wanted… I was trying to help you. They heard the screams and ran. I thought they were going to attack you."

He understood, but was left in despair to see blood when there should have been none. This was not what he had wanted coming up here. Russia had been supposed to protect them, comfort them, give them warmth and food. They would not want to befriend him after this. Everyone who had witnessed this would not blame Belarus, but him.

 _No… This is very bad…_

And he wondered what Cuba and China thought. Did they really believe him when he said he did not want anyone to get hurt? Promises could be so easily made, but Russia hoped they were still willing to support him. He had not told Belarus to harm Estonia and Lithuania after all.

 _The knives are just to scare them, not to cut them!_

They had such strange faces when they looked at him. Russia was startled into an attempt to make up for this. He hurried to Lithuania and Estonia and made sure he looked concerned when he exclaimed, "We have to do something for you! Come with me. We will get towels for the cuts."

Russia did not go into different rooms this time in his haste. He grabbed two of the towels he had stolen, rushing into the room and out so fast that they crashed in the doorway. Russia passed them one each and they immediately pressed theirs to their wounds.

He touched them both on an arm. Russia pointed the knife in his hand away from Lithuania as he sighed, "I did not want this. You understand, right? You believe me?"

But although he had given them towels, they glared. There was an edge to Estonia's whisper as well when he asked, "What did you do to make Latvia scream like that?"

"I punished him, but not in any blood way. It is okay. Latvia will be good now and be happy."

"You scared him!" Lithuania protested. "How could you do that?"

They were loud enough that their conversation was drawing others closer. Russia hated when they congregated and became strong in spirit. He muttered, "He is fine. I made sure to give him love after."

They cringed when he used that word and Russia noticed it. He had been paying attention to the reactions of it and so far it seemed that no one liked it. His answer also did not satisfy them and he wondered why. If conversation would not prevent another rebellion from arising however, Russia had to do something to keep control and calm. He shoved himself between Estonia and Lithuania, separating them by pushing them off toward two different directions of the hall.

"I am wanting more work done," Russia said. "You can wrap the towel around your cuts. You aren't bleeding too much, _da_? We can be strong."

He tapped the knife against his leg. Their eyes bounced with it, then they crept away submissively. Everyone else slunk back to their line and Russia felt relief. Safe. Nothing had happened this time as they learned how it would go if they caused trouble.

Russia decided to deal with the glass now. He entered the bathroom and took off his sweater, dropping it on the clean floor to pile the large shards on it. All was wrapped up then transported to the room with the supplies, dropped off in a corner. Russia brushed off the sweater then threw it back on, coming to the door then hesitating by it.

 _Everyone knows this is where the knives are and they know I put this glass here._

Anxiety fizzed within him. He had his keys still but because all the doors on this level had been broken down, he could not simply lock this room. Each floor had one key for all the doors, and he had hid the keys under the soles of his feet, binding them in his socks. Now though he had something to guard, just another reason to keep a close eye on the others.

 _Unless I can move everything while they are sleeping…_

Yet they still might search, taking every minute he was not watching to hunt for weapons. It would be too hard to guard more than one location, so Russia decided that he would keep everything in here. However, because of how he had been treated today, Russia went back into the room to find food for himself. Sitting in the corner with something to eat, he thought about how the others should not be fed until they learned to be thankful to him. It was a sort of punishment, but he felt that even China and Cuba should wait for having given him such strange faces earlier.

Some energy seemed to have returned to him already. He threw a piece of gum into his mouth and savored the sharp mint as he pocketed the rest of the pack. Out in the hall, no one had stopped working, and Lithuania and Estonia only touched the towel around their necks occasionally to keep it in place. All seemed well, until talks of the lunch he had denied them of commenced.

Poland started it with, "Hey, are we going to get food soon or what?"

"Later." Russia bit his gum once.

"What are you eating now?"

"Nothing. It is gum."

"Could I at least have that?"

Behind Russia, Lithuania was crossing his arms and shaking his head. _Stop talking to him_ , he gestured. But Poland was oblivious and Russia began to glare as he continued, "Why not? Why can't we have lunch now?"

"Because it is my food," Russia replied. "I decide if I am sharing it or not."

Of course. They remembered now that Russia had planned everything, and had bought all the food for when they would be trapped. Poland huffed, and his anger alone made Russia upset. He told him, "Maybe if you had been nice to me, you would be getting good meal now. Yes, I think you can rethink your attitude to get what you want. What do you think?"

And with letting them all hear that, Russia strolled to the blockage and the end of the hall to stand by it. Estonia and Lithuania peeled back their towels to check on the patches of blood, glad to find that their cuts had been rather shallow. Just warnings, although wobbly warnings as it seemed that the one who had cut them had not wanted to.

Belarus was hardly given a glance although the knife was still in her grasp. It was only Russia they despised, as he stood still and listened for movement down below. Russia forgot to pay mind to their lack of activity for some moments, as shock jolted his heart. He no longer heard anything down there. The pile was still and no one was digging.

" _What_?" Russia whispered to himself, once more slipping into Russian. "Why would he give up so easily? America would not do that. He would never let me win just like that… He is up to something… what?"

He snapped his head back to the others, but he did not tell them to continue adding to the pile. Russia was so bent with concern over the silence that he even wondered if they had put too much into the blockade, making it too hard to hear the other side. Hands dug into the blockage and a chair was yanked out. Eyes widened as Russia dug at the left side, speeding up rapidly until he was gasping and throwing things behind himself without care. They stumbled back to avoid being hit, as Russia dug through the hall's barricade and closer to the stairwell.

No one asked what he was doing. They were left in such shock since minutes ago, Russia had been sharply commanding them to put all efforts in blocking the hall. Now though, he had turned against his words it seemed, without warning. Russia braced himself against falling rubble and he clawed deeper and deeper, pausing now and then to see if he could hear any activity below.

 _What are they doing?_ his mind gasped again. _I have to know what they are up to…_

The knife slid down the band of his pants and he had to reposition it.

 _Is he building something to get out? Can he do that?_

Russia gritted his teeth as the strain on his injuries pulled them. The bones under his bruises stiffened like metal and his cuts leaked.

 _Is he preparing a major attack against me? Is he making a weapon? Planning a strike with his group?_

And still no one understood what he wanted, or knew what was driving him to push his body so much. Russia burst into the stairwell, above the rubble filling the way downstairs. He was so close, staring at the border between their worlds, and yet nothing. Still silence and stillness. Russia spun around and looked to the others, but instead of explaining anything to them, he said, "I don't want this hall to be blocked anymore. Just this part."

 _I need to be able to hear them…_

He also began to realize that getting through the hall would be much easier than clearing the way going up. Russia had to know if America had done it or not, because if the hall was blocked then Russia could not know how far he had gotten.

"Take everything else away."

He did not have to show his knife this time. Again, they dragged themselves back to work, undoing what they had done before because Russia had dictated it. They halted in further confusion however as Russia dashed up the stairs, the path that had been cleared earlier by America's group. They wondered what he wanted on the second floor, for it did not seem there was any escape to the building up there regardless.

Russia had always known that America would have recovered this room for him. That was why he had put it there on the second floor. If they had been friends, then it would not have mattered if America had gotten possession of the security room. They would have been together using it, growing bored of it when there was no one to spy on.

 _Because it was only a backup in case things got too bad…_

Oh, how he had been ready for failure again. Just like with his welcoming loaf of friendship bread. Russia took off a shoe and sock, and three keys fell to the floor. The basement key, and level one and two. Russia snatched the second level's key, but then wondered if he really needed the other two anymore. Russia kicked them to the side and decided that he did not need the extra foot discomfort. He discarded three and four too, feeling cozier in the feet now that the metal was gone.

Russia could not see a thing in the darkness of this hall. At first he was nervous, as though something was hiding in the blackness so thick like goo. He looked at the rubble going up to the third floor, then he prowled in on light feet, pressing his arm against the wall as he searched for a light switch. When it was felt, he pressed it, and light washed over the hall.

He dropped his shoulders in relief, thankful that the way he had circuited this building allowed for electricity to still work up here. Russia was now able to lead himself directly to the room in the middle of the hall, where he jammed in his key and opened up the room. He stared up at the cracked ceiling as he entered, then lowered his eyes upon the computers waiting for his attendance.

Russia slid into a swivel chair, but did not partake in a playful spin. His hands worked fast, powering on all the equipment in the chilly air. One-by-one, everything activated and Russia smiled as his cold weather cameras came online. Granted, many areas were disabled, and one surviving outdoor camera showed mostly white with only a strip of the unharmed parking lot near the top. Russia gazed at it with interest for a moment, admiring how precise General Winter's work had been.

 _Everything right except for the timing…_ Russia thought.

Not all the cameras had audio however. Russia could see every room, but only the cameras in the hall of the ground level and the basement had audio. He leaned in to view videos of the basement. Eyes flashed up-down, left-right, for a glimpse of America's figure. Russia saw an empty hall, then he searched the live footage of the cafeteria. His eyes widened as a mass moved like ants by the tables, the entire group lifting and taking their empty dishes back to the kitchen.

"So they ate lunch." Russian returned to his tongue. "They will go back to work after."

The violet eyes stared at the oblivious forms, watching each of them moving to and fro. Russia's pupils constricted as he watched America at the sink, washing dishes while Canada dried.

"He is trying to look good," Russia decided. "He wants them to think he is so nice and helpful. Their _hero_ "-and he spat the word like it tasted rotten- "Although I did all these things for them and no one ever appreciated it."

Russia rested his arms on the table, knowing he was going to be here for a while. He wondered about his group, so he moved over and brought up the fullscreen video for the ground level's hall. He relaxed slightly to see at least one thing was right, and that they were working and removing the rubble he wanted like he had asked. Russia then flashed through the other cameras for this level, until he found the one camera focusing down on Prussia.

"Poor Prussia," Russia murmured, although he was sure to do nothing for him for a while yet. Prussia knelt, sitting on his feet and quaking like mad, his skin unnaturally pale and his arteries almost purple. He was not struggling against his bonds, but staying in his spot and unaware of the camera lens zooming in on him from the upper corner. His face with tightly closed eyes grew larger on screen, until Russia could see blurry streaks of movement, tears flashing down his face. Russia frowned, but put his attention back onto the basement floor.

They were leaving the kitchen now. Russia switched to the view of the hall's cameras, listening to the audio and waiting for their appearances.

"Alright," came America's voice. Naturally, he was leading the way and he was the first out. "I got this."

Russia was baffled as they did not turn to head toward the blockade, but went across the hall into the room they had all slept in last night. No one else talked so he switched to that room's camera. Russia stared as America went to the computer, breathing in astonishment, "What is he doing?"

America was there for some time, until he exclaimed something and the others looked interested. America turned the computer to show them, and Russia caught a glimpse of the unlocked home screen.

"Hacked," Russia muttered.

His eyebrows furrowed as America turned back the computer. His hand on the mouse swept over the desk and Russia saw him clicking on something.

"The internet does not work," Russia huffed. "Does he think he can call for help?"

But then he waved Canada over. Canada walked up and leaned over the desk, placing his arms over the wood and observing what America was doing. At times America passed the mouse to Canada, and Russia regarded them with confusion until he shot up with a cry.

"They are playing games! Why would they be doing that? They know what I did! Why are they relaxing? Do they not care anymore?"

Russia fumed as he thought he was not being taken seriously.

"I took them! Does it not bother you?" he asked the ignorant crowd. "Do you not think I am in the superior position? I trapped _you_. Are you not worried about your supplies? About everyone up here with me? Don't you want to escape?"

Russia was dissatisfied by the seeming lack of caring they demonstrated. The drama he had expected was not there. He grimaced, growling, "I am a threat, America. I am stronger than you. Perhaps you are too stupid to see this…"

 _No_. Another thought came to him as he regained his logic.

"Wait. This cannot be true. America would take anything I do seriously and what I did was big. He cares about the little ones, because he attacked me before. Smart, maybe… he is planning something. But what? What is he waiting for? Ah, maybe for me to go to sleep. Whenever we stop working, so he can dig fast and get to me. Well then…" He smacked his lips. "We will sleep early then stay up. I am going to be ready for you."

Russia turned off all the computers. He backed out of the room and locked it. All lights were turned off and the key was placed in the pocket of his pants this time. There was less and less to hide nowadays.


	15. Слезы- Tears

Russia eased himself down the stairs, minding his injuries this time. Breathing carefully, he felt the tug of every scratch and the throb of all the bruises littering his body. He did not enjoy the pain that hindered him and he was worried that it was going to force him to rest again, which would not do if he wanted to be prepared.

So upon entry of the hall, he hid his weakness with wide strides that gave the illusion of power. Nothing blocked his path and Russia was glad that they had done what he had asked, although they had stopped working now. Their exhaustion was enough of an excuse thus he did not feel under high pressure, especially after seeing America's inactivity. In fact, it was better for them to relax at this time. Russia bid them all to rest, gliding forward and smiling.

"How about everyone go back to the room to lie down?" He stepped into the cleared hall and stopped, folding his arms behind his back. "You can have your washroom and water breaks, and maybe food soon."

They blinked back at him in such a way that he knew something new had thrown them off. He wondered what it had been, but then they started to move. Cuba hesitated for a few seconds before following the others. Russia had the feeling that he had wanted to say something to him, so he called out to him.

" _Kuba_."

Cuba understood that. He stopped and headed back to Russia, not particularly worried for himself but wondering what he could want.

" _U tebya yest'_ -"

"Why are you speaking Russian?"

Russia froze. Cuba continued, "You just spoke it to them but… When we talk together, we go for English. I'm not so used to Russian."

"Ah… I didn't realize I was speaking it."

"Because you are stressed?"

Everyone else was gone. Russia nodded slowly in response.

"What is happening?" Cuba asked him. "I see you trying to be nice, but sometimes… You are scaring them."

Russia hesitated. Gently, Cuba continued, "What made Latvia scream like that?"

Now Russia swallowed. "I… He was being so rude. I made him…"

He looked so conflicted, as though he truly wanted to believe himself but could not. Cuba stepped in and prompted him, "What did you make him do?"

"Lift ice."

"Why?"

"I told you… he was being rude. I did not do anything, but already he was crying. I had to punish him."

Cuba approached this topic carefully, whispering, "Why did you think you _had_ to do that?"

"They have to learn." Russia lifted his eyes as China escaped into the hall and slid toward them.

"But… what if you were more careful about it?" Cuba went on, his back to China. "If you didn't scare them or hurt them. If you let them know your emotions."

"It doesn't work. I tried, but they attack me if I am weak. I told you already this," Russia murmured. "I need them to stop in some way though…"

"They will only be more afraid of you if you hurt them," Cuba told him, glancing at China who was now stopped at his side.

"I am showing them that I don't have to hurt them," Russia answered. "That I chose not to for a reason."

There was a bit of an edge creeping into his voice. China sighed, "You are more upset than before… You keep getting angry at people so quick. Why?"

"They aren't helping me," Russia breathed. "But they don't understand how much I need them to support me."

"It all has to do with America, doesn't it?" China went on. "Why you are more stressed than usual… You lost something that you had for only such a short time."

"It was important." Russia's throat tightened. "So… I thought it was over, but then everything was ruined."

"Do you want to talk again?" China offered quietly.

Russia swayed forward, shaking his head. "Too much has happened today… and I should watch the others."

He walked on to the room, although not all were present there. He took a peek however, then dove into revaluations.

 _What worked before?_ he asked himself. That was how he decided that he should wash their wounds again today, making sure they were healthy and in the least amount of pain. _Yes_. He thought that sounded like a kind thing to do. They had accepted it before and Hungary had even supported him then.

 _I can restart here then_ , Russia decided. He wandered off to get the soap, towels, and bowls, then he took over the bathroom when everyone was done. He checked to make sure no one else was around, then he locked the door and relaxed for a time. Naturally he did not want to be too long when there were things to guard, but he wanted a period of isolation where he could almost pretend he was somewhere else away from this building.

He washed his hands, the ice-cold water splashing their cuts with fat spots of numbness. Each hand was dried gingerly with a towel, before Russia stared at them with a frown creeping down his face. The fingers of one hand grazed the cuts of the other, and Russia imagined he was touching someone else's hand. His index curved over one knuckle, like a loving caress.

"I will not hurt them," Russia mumbled, the echos of his friends' words rebounding in his mind. His fingers curled around the rim of the sink and Russia leaned forward to regard the busted remains of the bathroom mirror. Some pieces remained intact, cracked and triangular in the corners. Russia reached out, peeling at one until it pulled free. Then, it was held up in front of his face so that his reflection could be found coloured against the glass.

A dark circle: his black eye. Red strings that were his lacerations, and some specks of other bruises that resembled scattered pebbles on his face. He looked dreadful and yet, the injuries did not make him appear weak. Russia stared into his own brilliant eyes that had such a powerful focus upon the glass. He was admittedly intimidating, keeping a face that made it seem that he could not feel what had happened to him.

The only thing was that he did not know if he liked that.

"What do I want to be?" Russia finally asked himself. "Is this why I am having so much trouble? I cannot decide whether to be powerful and in charge, getting respect and cooperation from the others- or to be peaceful, quiet, and the one they come to for comfort. And when I am stuck in between… no one knows what to do with me…"

He touched his fingers to his temples and leaned forward.

"Think… Why haven't I been thinking? I did so much of that before… but now the ideas and plans have run out. I need new ones again. Everything that can go wrong, and everything to counteract it. Simple… what do I know bothers them?"

Russia began organizing the points into a list.

"Punishments… bad. No one accepts me doing those and they become afraid of me…"

He grew confused.

"Ah but… How will they listen? No… What do they need to listen to? Am I in charge? Hmm, but, who else could be the leader? I don't think anyone else is strong enough to be the leader of this group… unless it isn't so complicated. I mean, they have been independent so maybe they are better leaders than I thought?"

The battered head shook side-to-side.

"But they need NATO's protection… No wait…"

Russia looked back to the shard in his hand, staring at his reflection and watching his mouth move.

"Maybe physical strength is not needed for something like this. They can be smart. If I stop telling them what to do, they might work by themselves… Ah! But what about the weapons? How do I keep them from going to them? No, I wonder if being nice is enough. If I let them think of me as completely vulnerable, then perhaps there will be too much guilt for them to attack me. They are not heartless; I see their friendships and affection for each other. How to get into that circle? Do I have to act as gentle and weak as them?"

With the aid of the glass, his former mistake, he tried to improve his future by changing his face. Russia relaxed and tried to think of innocent things to make himself feel warm in the chest. Tapping the faces of chamomile flowers, petting fluffy cats, and standing on a glacier-deposited rock in the forest were the first random things to come to mind. And with just these, he could already see the difference. His eyes took on a new appearance, changing as much as they would have if the irises had turned green. His eyebrows lay down to rest while his lips adopted a welcoming curve. Russia stroked his own hair and found that now he looked quite innocent too, young and sweet even with his injuries.

"Okay but, what do I say?" he asked himself. "If I cannot hurt them, cannot tell them what to do… and if I shouldn't touch them without asking, then what? They won't know what I thought about and learned, and if I am going to talk about how much I want to be their friend, how do I do it? The word 'love' has not caused good reactions. And just when I thought I had the definition right! Warm feeling and attachment to a friend, family member, pet… I thought English used the word love easily, and yet America told me otherwise! Ah, everyone knows love better than me I guess."

Russia pocketed the glass shard then started pulling off the rest from the mirror.

"Then I will stop using that word. Also, my Russian. Strange that I started speaking it to them… Would it help if I thought in English? Or if"-then Russia switched to English, his accent littering the words- "I spoke it even to myself? I am still wondering though, if it means something bad that I was doing it without noticing. Maybe the control reminds me too much of Soviet times where I had them speaking Russian with me. Oh… I hope Lithuania was not right. I do not want the Soviet Union again, but did I make myself act like I did then?"

 _I punished Prussia and Latvia…_

So the answer was yes. He had been reverting back to old habits. Russia's heart drummed and he swallowed. He lifted one of the bowls, squeezed soap into it, then began filling it with water.

"What am I doing?" he lamented. "I know I did not want this, and yet I did it. I should have listened to China and Cuba. They knew I was acting Soviet and they were trying to let me know… Bad knives! Why did I take them? How could I expect anything to go well with the pain and power of knives? That makes only the fear and obedience! Not love! I have to pay attention…"

He had filled the other bowl with just cold water. He replayed his ideas through his mind, making sure they were fresh so he would not forget them. Russia took everything back to the room, where resistance occurred immediately upon sight of the bowls and towels.

"No," Lithuania uttered.

"It won't hurt," Russia spoke with the softest tone he could muster without whispering. "Do you remember the last time? It did not hurt."

"We don't want you to be touching us," Estonia backed him up.

 _How to not make them scared… I guess if it is no, here is where I should stop._

Russia put everything on the floor. "Then do it yourselves," he stated. "I give you this, now take care of yourselves."

 _Did I do the right thing?_

They appeared surprised, and they were, as the response they had not expected had come. Russia felt a rush of success in his chest as he departed to fetch them something for lunch now.

 _Yes, food and drink worked last time too. Okay, I can fix this. Just give them what they need and don't force things. No arguments._

Russia put away the glass, kept the knife, and gathered up protein bars. When he returned, Poland was topless and Lithuania was squeezing water out from a towel. Both shot a glare at him, but then Russia dumped the food into a pile on the floor and retreated. They did not move forward while he was there, but when he came back with some filled cups of water, they were gnawing on them, the bars like nuts in squirrel paws.

Russia's eyes softened as he felt that this was a good start. He passed out the water for them to share amongst themselves, and this time they took the cups without giving him anything but spiteful looks.

 _One more day or two with them… If I keep doing this, then maybe I have a chance._

When he saw Belarus, she gave him a little nod. Russia perked, looking around then noticing that China and Cuba were doing the same. They approved of what he had done; he had managed himself well.

 _No more scaring them…_ Then his thought trailed off. _Oh then… I should bring back Prussia now!_

Russia turned and hurried out from the room. He beelined to Prussia's location, bursting in and dashing to him. Prussia did not even have the energy to jolt in surprise from his sudden arrival, but then he was enveloped in utter warmth a moment after. He inhaled and pressed his face into him, heating it and drying away his freezing and already-frozen tears. Russia quickly untied him, unraveling his bonds then slipping out his gag. He curled Prussia into a ball then cradled him tightly, whispering hoarsely and hurriedly, "I won't do this again. I am sorry for this. It will not happen again."

 _Ah! Is he mad?_ Russia wondered in anxiety. _Should I have asked to touch him first?_

Prussia could hardly move any part of his body. Hypothermia had restrained him, but he strained to place his fingers between Russia's chest and his to warm them. He had been so afraid of getting frostbite, but now the torture was over and he was safe. _Safe_ , he thought, as Russia peeled off his shoes for him so he could tuck his toes under his leg and warm them too.

Russia rubbed all over his back, sighing to him and squeezing. Prussia was moving into him, so Russia believed that perhaps he wanted to be here at least for now. He was not saying no, so Russia focused on recovering him while assuring him, "I did not want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. Do you believe me? I just wanted you to be my friend… This was mistake."

Prussia was too tired to pay attention to his outpouring of emotion. He could not wonder where it had come from or why, when he only burrowed further into Russia. Russia made a sound in his throat, then pet his hair before squeezing Prussia's smaller, frigid hands in his warm ones.

"I should not have hurt you," Russia said. "No, no… Now you hate me. But I really do care about you, like I do with everyone."

Prussia snuggled in and his breathing calmed. His skin gained colour as Russia held him tightly again for a longer period of time. Prussia blinked at the carpet sleepily, phasing in and out of consciousness and often forgetting that Russia was the one holding him. When the pads of utter warmth stroked, massaged, and held, Prussia exhaled and a contented pink touched his face. The complete attention was wonderful and so cozily gentle. It was hard to think, but he thought about how much he did not want to be let go and how he liked the tender hands.

Russia stopped talking when there seemed to be no need for it. Prussia was still, not shivering, not crying, and not asking to leave. It made Russia's being lift with joy, and he began thinking that maybe the punishment had really done a good thing, and Prussia felt bad for what he had done to him. Maybe, he understood how happy Russia was here, and so they remained at what seemed like peace.

He just let the minutes go by. There was an uneasy beast in his heart, skittering in circles as he wanted to know if people were raiding the supplies and arming themselves. Russia fended it off by forcing himself to trust Cuba, China, and Belarus.

 _They will protect me…_

Russia focused on this room, on the form of Prussia with all his corners and curves pressed into him. Russia gave the camera in the room a glance and thought about how forgettable it could be, if one did not know it still functioned. He then became so distracted by Prussia that he only had to resist the urge to be overly affectionate without permission. Even if he felt so much like a smaller brother he had always wanted, he did not nuzzle or kiss, because Prussia had not agreed to be treated as such.

"Prussia," Russia murmured instead. "Do you feel any better yet?"

There was no answer until he asked again even later. Prussia replied then, "Yes…"

"Can I get you anything?" Russia whispered as tenderly as he could.

Prussia hesitated then requested, "Can I go to the…"

"Bathroom? Oh yes, I understand. You were so cold."

He might have lifted him, thinking him to be weak from the cold, but he decided to let him try to walk. Prussia could now move his thawed fingers and was able to set his shoes back on himself, then he proved to be able to move independently. Russia followed his slow-moving form halfway down the hall before wondering if he seemed too hostile doing this. Russia stopped and Prussia went on, until he was gone and the hall was empty. Alone and uncomfortable there, Russia crept to the occupied room but then kept himself from checking on everyone.

 _I have to stop trying to control everything if they are going to like me._

So he eavesdropped instead. The sound of cascading water in the bowl was all he heard as no one seemed to want to talk. Maybe they had already talked about him. Russia slid away until Prussia came out, freezing then watching him with cautious eyes, wondering where to move if he was even allowed to.

"Go ahead," Russia whispered, hoping that he would not be heard by the others. "You can be with them."

Prussia looked surprised, but then he strolled up to the door and pushed in. Russia moved in, wanting to see the reactions to Prussia's return. It was a lot of eye-openings and gasps, then some rejoicing to see that no fresh wounds had been inflicted on him. They had expected tears, but Prussia was whole.

Hungary leapt up and inhaled, "You're okay!"

His eyes flashed to the healing cut on her neck, then he breathed, "You are too…"

She ran up to him, gasping, "Russia- what did he do to you?"

Then she noticed him there, in the doorway. Hungary halted in front of Prussia, first fear then anger igniting on her face. She dragged Prussia behind her and stood stiffly. Russia looked away, as though she was a cat he better not stare in the eyes of. He said softly though, "I am sorry for taking him away. He is back now and I will not be doing this again."

Her eyes glinted with suspicion along with Lithuania's, Estonia's, and Poland's. Latvia and Ukraine tucked themselves into the background, but Belarus, China, and Cuba were interested. Russia had told the truth about what happened to him, and Russia was acting rather calm now. English had returned and Russia seemed smaller, careful, and regretful. The mood from when he had dropped off the bowls and towels had not dissolved.

"You probably will," Hungary muttered, "when we do something that upsets you."

"No…" Russia looked beyond her to the others. "I don't want to. Especially now that I see how you take it… but I am really sorry for what I did. For whenever I hurt or scared you here… it did nothing but bad."

Russia's heart ached, feeling as though each beat stretched the muscles thinner and thinner. He had accidentally begun staring at Ukraine, and he felt so tired suddenly.

 _Why couldn't she just agree with me?_

A prick of irritation, but then he tried to suppress it.

"I thought you said earlier, that you wouldn't apologize for anything," Ukraine murmured to him. "Because you 'have to do it'."

Russia shook his head. He just wanted this drama to end, for feelings to just snap into happiness. How he wished the bitterness and fear could flash away in an instant, their moods switching as fast as his had. Russia wanted to end the fighting, to go up and hug Ukraine. He wanted to be right, but the ache within him also made him long to kiss her cheeks.

"It does not work," he stressed. "Pain and fear are not helping me. You just hate me now and I do not like this."

"So it is for you," Estonia summarized. "You don't care about us, but just don't want to do anything that would make us be disliking you."

"But I do care about you," Russia tried. "Even in the past… I did not want to hurt you."

"You are lying!" Poland exclaimed. "You wanted me dead! You wanted my land, and you totally smiled at our pain!"

"You want us to like you so you don't have any threats," Lithuania uttered. "That is it, isn't it? You just wanted to protect yourself."

Russia stiffened. No matter how he tried to convince himself, what Lithuania said seemed right. He had been scared. He had wanted allies, to make sure he would be safe from the world turning against him in the future. Russia had wanted his greatest threat, America, to be his friend so that there would never be war between them.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that this had been exactly the point. With America so close to him, he could be watched. With the silly antics, America gave himself away and his caution was stripped away. He had chosen to save him and Canada as the roof had been collapsing, worried that had America been injured or even his brother, then he could have been attacked with asperity.

Yet Russia did not want to believe it. He had convinced himself that he had known love… but had he really? Was that why he had been using the word wrong, scaring everyone with its usage? Russia crumpled, pressing his arms to his sides and backing away. He remembered Lithuania's powerful words from earlier, about how he had not changed. That he was the same.

 _Is this why I have been acting Soviet? Because I am still like that? No_ … And he shook his head again, his eyes moisturizing. _No, I have changed so much… new systems… I am trying. I want everyone to work with me, cooperate without hatred… Oh but, is this only for my sake? No, no…_

Russia stepped back. Lithuania's words echoed in his mind.

 _You just wanted to protect yourself._

He hurried back into the hall. Russia slipped sideways, then rushed away. He began to run, but the words pursued him and his mind cried, _Don't I care about them? Why don't I care? What is love? If to love is to have happiness, then why have I been denied? I want to know what it is!_

Russia grabbed the doorway and swung into the room with the supplies. He shoved the door closed then fell against it, gasping one terrible inhale before dropping and shaking.

 _How did I not know what I was doing? I was just Soviet again, controlling them, hurting them… They were right. They were right… because why else did I choose to take only them? The former Soviets… Why did I do that? Why did I do that, why did I do that…_

He extracted his knife, looked at it with raw horror, then cast it across the room. Each shard of glass was ripped out from his pocket and hurled away as well, to break into useless pieces of clear gravel. Russia dug his palms into his eyes, forbidding himself to cry. He had cried before China and he was still worried if crying was going to make people turn against him; bring pain upon himself.

 _You just wanted to protect yourself._

And Russia thought, _I did… I have to be strong._

Yet although he wanted to be so powerful, he could not deny he wanted to be comforted, held, and taken care of. It was too much to always be stressed like this, fighting to keep a certain composure so the others would not know how much he worried about his future. It would have been such a relief for people to stop hating him, to want to be with him and care about him.

He did not cry. Russia waited, wondering if anyone would come for him, but many minutes passed and no one did. He wondered how selfish it was to want to be cuddled and have his hair pet, for someone to do something for him. In an instant he missed America greatly, releasing a whine as he thought about how quickly he had turned against America, blocking him off and hoping he would feel inferior to him.

 _Why don't I even know what I want…?_

His hands dropped away from his dry eyes, slipping into the front pouch of his sweater. Russia tucked his mouth behind the cover of his scarf and let himself ponder this question. Alone and without help, it was a futile effort.

* * *

It was determined that Russia was gone, after Hungary's check of the hall. When she had announced that however, China stood up and declared, "We should do something for him. He is making an effort and it is clear he is upset!"

"He ran off because he couldn't deal with the truth," Estonia replied with distasteful bluntness.

"What do you think that means?" Belarus sent a sharp glare at him, which he ignored but countered.

"He knows he's never going to be getting what he wants." He held his ground against her. "He won't get the support of ours."

"I think he does care," Cuba interjected, "but he doesn't know how to express it to you. If you guys took some first steps though, I think it would turn out well."

"Define _first steps_." Poland pursed his lips at him.

Hungary asked of Prussia, "What do you think we should do?"

"What?" Prussia had not expected he would be asked. "How should I know? Russia's crazy- he's possessive and cruel. I know he does not love us. He is a psychopath and can't feel something like that! Haven't you seen how twitchy he's been since we got here? He is disturbed! But… I think we have to do something else. I think we have to be clever."

"Clever?" Latvia's voice trembled with his body.

"Yeah, yeah…" Then Prussia started getting into his own idea. "If we pretend to like him, then we won't get hurt! If we act nice to him, hug him and stuff, then he'll go tame! I think we can get him softened like that then we will all be safe."

"We might even get a chance to defeat him," Estonia mused. "If he drops his guard enough."

Ukraine gasped, "Hold on! Don't you think that is cruel to Russia? We should treat him with real kindness… He does not mean to be malicious. Maybe we could help him, and I will have my sweet brother back."

"So you really do think he cares about us?" Poland scoffed. "Are you like, blind? Haven't you noticed what he's done to us?"

"He just wants to own us," Lithuania said to her. "Russia just left Prussia in the cold for hours and he tortured Latvia. He hurt us."

"But he has emotions," Ukraine murmured. "When he was younger, I know he did. But because of the role he took, he became like this. I would rather have him back than see him destroyed."

China hopped up and stalked closer to the others, muscles flexed as he muttered, "I won't let any of you hurt him."

The warning froze the air. They sat in silence, until Hungary sighed to Ukraine, "What should we do then? You are afraid of him but part of you still loves him."

Belarus stared at her, but Ukraine did not get to respond. Cuba interrupted, "Don't pretend to be nice to him- just be nice to him! You will be surprised by how he treats you back. I have not had the problems you have had with Russia, so listen to me. He can be good and will treat you well if you aren't hostile. So don't plan to hurt him or trick him. A hug can go a long way."

Belarus stood up and announced in a grumble, "I am going to see him now. He needs me. He will be lonely without me."

She stalked quickly from the room. China and Cuba looked as though they were about to follow her, but then they thought that they needed to be here to make sure the others did not plot against Russia. Ukraine got up however, much to the surprise of all. She moved slowly forward, whispering, "I want to try what Cuba said. He is my brother… I have to help him, so I'm going to go see him."

Lithuania cried, "Be careful! Hasn't he been threatening you? He might hurt you!"

"Yes… but if I give him love, he might learn how to love properly as well. I could never hate him… It isn't his fault he is so misguided."

Ukraine went ahead and left, this action seeming to take some of the conflict away with her. They became unsure of what to do with themselves, and so Lithuania beckoned Latvia to him, asking if he wanted his cuts to be washed. It was a welcome distraction, and Latvia was in no way nervous to remove his clothes when Lithuania had been the one to ask him.

And with nothing else to be done, China and Cuba sat by each other with lips set into lines, only able to hope that Russia could be saved by his sisters somewhere in this unstable asylum.

* * *

Someone tried to push the door. Russia gasped, expecting an attack, thus refused to budge.

"It's me," Belarus said. Russia hesitated, then got up so she could push in the door.

"Belarus," he whispered. "You came to see me…"

She dove into him, hugging him tightly. Russia inhaled in pain, accidentally revealing how tender his body had become. Belarus relaxed her grip however, saying nothing about his weakness to upset him. Russia reached up and ran his hand down her hair, feeling the tenseness of his shoulders fading. He was melting, he was sure, because his legs folded and he fell. Belarus grabbed him under the armpits then set him gently down into a lying position.

Russia allowed himself to sink into the carpet, then hardly moved as Belarus slid up against his side. She placed on hand on his chest, one on the floor, then raised herself up to loom over his face. Here she posed her question, in worry and feeling, although its receival was predictable.

"What if we were one?"

Russia's eyes flashed open, eyebrows furrowing and heart picking up in anxiety. "Bela…"

"You are so sad. If you married me, then we would always be together."

"Not again," he pleaded, rolling away from her then getting up. "I do not like it when you say this…"

She followed him, trying to cling. "But you have to. You would never be lonely and you wouldn't have to plan dangerous things like this."

"No…" His voice started to shake. Russia hopped up, moving away from her toward the door.

"This _was_ dangerous!" she stressed. "But with me, I would keep you safe and happy. You have to marry me!"

Ukraine arrived, crying as she entered the room, "Belarus, you are bothering him!" Then gentler, she spoke to Russia, "We are here for you. Of course we couldn't stop caring for you."

Belarus went quiet as Ukraine approached Russia's petrified body. Her arms went around his board-like frame, until his blinks ended and his eyes fell closed as he relaxed. Russia sighed and felt wobbly again, falling so limply into comfort.

"I don't want you to be sad and scared anymore," Ukraine whispered. She rubbed his back until he started sinking again. Belarus supported him and they lay him down onto the floor, where he seemed to want to be. Ukraine came in and held onto him, her hand over his heart and head on his shoulder. Russia's face wrinkled however, and he pulled away hesitantly.

"You can't do this," he whispered. "Your boss would forbid it. You don't want to anyway… No, you don't even want this! You would not hug me earlier."

"It's okay," she breathed before shushing him. It had sounded how she would shush him if she was putting him to bed when he was younger, whenever she was around. Russia twitched and started quivering in anguish, but then she placed a kiss on his forehead. His shining eyes flickered open and Ukraine could see the tears hiding in them. She held his face and stroked her thumbs across his cheeks until those eyes fell closed again.

"Poor Russia," she whispered. "All you wanted was to be loved…"

Russia jolted when Belarus touched him, but then he relaxed when he saw her concerned expression. She quietly moved his arm, finding a place for herself along his side. Russia put his arm around her and succumbed to the warmth all around him. Ukraine whispered, "You feel love, I know you do. You made mistakes, Russia, but you did care and you tried."

One tear slid free, then another, as flat trails on his face. Ukraine kissed his forehead softly again, her heart sinking as more of his tears escaped him.

"You can cry," Ukraine murmured. "It hurts you so much to hold all this inside you… let it go, sweet Russia."

"No, I can't…" Russia choked, but he was faltering. Belarus held his hand and brushed her thumb over his cuts so gently that it tickled. He squirmed with his heart, but Ukraine sided him as well and held him in her comfort. His efforts to flee diminished and he cried silently, shaking and when invited to, set his face onto her shoulder. His tears splattered it and the carpet, but Ukraine sang softly to him while Belarus caressed his rib cage.

Such memories filled him, tearing at his being until his throat was seized. Russia could not talk but could only collapse into tears, under the comforting words of his older sister. When he finally tried to speak however, it was a whine of hitches.

" _I did bad things. I didn't mean to…_ "

"We know." Ukraine stopped her singing and kissed his temple. "You were scared."

"My boss will hate me… He will punish me…"

"No, it will be okay."

Although she did not know if that was true. But when he was entrapped in warmth, hugs, pets, and gentle voices, he believed he was safe. Russia nuzzled Ukraine, and she said, "See… I know you feel love. You love us."

"I don't know… Maybe I just want to own you."

"If that were true, you would want all of my land… and Belarus's. But, you do what you think is right, even if you are wrong… So you aren't trying to take over the world, Russia." She nuzzled him back, not minding his sticky tears. "We don't always have to agree, you know, to love each other."

"No…? Are you sure it is okay to do that then?"

"It is better not to," Belarus said.

"But love should be stronger than that," Ukraine continued for her. "So we care about you no matter what."

" _Ukraine_ ," Russia whimpered. "I want to say I love everyone but… I don't know if I do. How do I know? What if I lost the ability to feel it?"

"Do you feel happy with us?"

"Yes but… you are comforting me. I might be selfish."

"But you would not want to be comforted by just anybody, right?"

"I guess so…"

"Would you care if I got hurt in an accident?"

"Yes, of course! You would not deserve that."

"And if we are together, do you want me to have fun with you?"

"I do," Russia whispered into her neck. "Why wouldn't I want you to feel good things?"

"Russia, even though you misunderstand things, you do love people. Don't you see? You are bothered by our pain even if you cause it. You want us to be happy with you. Your friends and family… all happy without any conflict between us."

"I love you," Russia exhaled. "I really do… You believe me, right? I love you…"

He turned his head, shifting and kissing her cheek.

"I believe you," she whispered, facing him and looking into his quivering, dazzling eyes. It hurt to see such a damaged face. So much pain had befallen him. _He's been punished enough_ , she thought as she moved her finger close to the bruise around his eye. He cringed at first, but then trusted her. She was watched as she traced his bruise then all the marks on his face.

"You have suffered so much," she murmured. "But don't blame America. He learned to care about you too, and you hurt him. He attacked you because he thought you did not love him or anyone. That you were pretending… Would you not feel the same if you thought someone had done that to you?"

"Yes…" he admitted, easily as Belarus pet his hair. Her hand drifted down to his neck, peeling back his scarf. Russia twitched nervously at first, but then her hand massaged over his scars and it felt pleasant.

"You have to tell him everything," Ukraine said. "When you lie and hurt people… You will never get what you want."

"But when he finds out that I planned this…!"

"It is better for you to tell him," Belarus muttered, "than for someone else to."

Russia turned and donned affection to Belarus now. For her turn, he squeezed her and kissed her hair multiple times, then put a tender one on her forehead. When he rolled onto his back however, he told them, "But America will attack me. And I know he will. I think he is coming tonight…"

Then he considered something else.

"Can you get me my phone?" he asked Belarus. "It is with the other things.'

Belarus got up to find it, already cognizant of its location. She brought it back and he tried to turn it on, only to get no reaction.

"Ah… I should have known," he sighed. "Dead. I don't know what time it is, but I guess no one knows anymore. I could charge this, but what is the point? Knowing won't change anything. America will come upstairs anyway."

He passed the phone back to her. She went to the corner and returned it to its hiding spot with the other cell phone that had been salvaged: America's. Russia went limp when both his sisters settled into his side, holding them until he realized that they all had been speaking Russian the whole time.

"Oh, why do I keep doing this?" he exclaimed in English. "Does it mean that Lithuania was right? I want the Soviet Union back?"

"No," Ukraine consoled him. "You're just stressed. It's okay."

Her reassurance was impossible to contest when they were here snuggling with him. Russia sighed, "But it gives them the bad impression… If I cannot stop forgetting what I am doing, then maybe I should try not to talk. What do you think? If they are always misinterpreting what I say, then maybe I can build their trust by only helping them."

"It might help," Ukraine admitted. "Often what you say is the problem… but you still have to be careful of how you are looking at the others, how you walk- all those things."

"I know. Looking too strong scares them, so I will try to be very soft with them. But, if I did not talk, or only talked a little, I think they would trust me faster."

"If that is what you want to do," Belarus agreed.

"Then… I want to be quieter. I don't want to be the leader anymore. I want to be their friend."

Russia shifted. He dried his face, then they moved off him so he could sit up. He looked around, felt the heat on his face from his crying, then decided to say one more thing.

"Go back," he murmured. "I want to stay alone for a bit… I will return when I am ready."

They departed without dispute, giving Russia the time he needed to think about their discussion. He let the red of his face disappear, checking it in the reflection of a hidden glass shard, before he returned to the room.

He just appeared without warning. Most stiffened, having had expected him to return with his icy stare and hostility, only to find that there was none of that. Russia avoided eye contact, weaving to the computer then turning it on. He sat carefully into the chair, but then shut his eyes as he waited for the computer to display the login screen. All watched him, but the lack of activity or sound confused them. Without explanation or command, Russia eventually typed in the password, found the folder of games, then left the chair.

Then he disappeared from the room entirely. There would have been no chance of them playing while he was there, but now they would. Russia drifted down the hall like a diaphanous spirit, slowly making his way to the blockage in the stairwell. Leaning against the wall, Russia listened and heard nothing. What have they been doing, he wondered, as he fell apart on this level? Their worlds were so different and far apart; they had lived in ignorance of his breakdown and were probably still playing games.

Russia looked back, then disappeared up the stairs. He snuck down to the security room, enclosing himself in it as he struggled with the loneliness of separation. The cameras brought him as close as he could to them. Russia powered everything back on then found them still in the old room. His elbows came onto the desk and he hid his nose and mouth in the triangle formed by his hands. With the unblinking, black eye, he watched them, until the rest of his life above the blockade faded into the background while he became absorbed with theirs.

They played still, two at a time, while the others rested. Russia observed games beginning, and games ending. He could not see what they were playing, but when they passed the mouse to each other often and took a long time, he knew it was chess. Eyebrows furrowing and heart so alive and throbbing in a dead chest, he thought about how he loved that game. How horrible it would be though, to play against one of them. It would not be fun then, but when they played, they seemed free of such pressure.

 _Such fun they are having, because they are friends. They already love each other and could not imagine what it is like to be me, wondering if I can ever have what they have._

The Tetris with America had been a taste of that, but alas the transiency of it stung. Russia watched them for several unmeasured hours, and they had no idea that everything they were doing was striking a heart faraway. He sniffed, and found it harder to decide not to cry when no one would find him. Tears slid off his face, splattering the wood and slowly hardening there. Yet he could not stop watching, eyes locking onto those resting in the arms of each other as they combated the frigid air.

No one resisted each other. No one said harsh things or pulled away. They were fine in each other's company; perfectly content. Russia sunk over his arms and spied on America as he napped in the tangle of Canada's limbs around him. He wondered what it felt like there, being held by Canada. _Does he smell just as nice?_ he thought. He could not remember from when he had hugged him. _Does he also think my eyes are beautiful?_

He wanted to switch places with America, but then he also wanted to be in Canada's spot, holding America. _Not because I want to possess him. Because it would be nice…_

Russia started remembering the sleep-inducing sweetness of his warmth and scent. A quality not limited to him, for more and more Russia was finding that whenever he was with a willing person, he wanted to sleep, staying with them for hours. _That is love, isn't it? To want to be happy with people, without wanting to leave…_

Hold, be held. Both desires so strong and necessary for his survival. He wanted what they had, but he could not obtain it for himself. No, it was not so simple. They had to come to him or else he could never win their trust and caring. But watching the screen was torturous when he was meant to restrain himself from touching others, because he wanted so much just to go downstairs and grab someone to hug.

 _Maybe someone will allow that_ , he hoped. Finally, he switched cameras so that he could view the happenings of the hall below. A gasp exploded from his mouth when everyone was seen bustling about the hall, passing into every room and searching for items. Russia jolted when Lithuania and Estonia emerged from the supply room, arms full of his hidden food. There went the precious supplies, scattered to the others whose delighted cries were captured on audio. Russia fidgeted until his chair could no longer hold him. He leapt up, jaw dropping as they went back into the room, coming out next with his knives.

 _No! Who is stopping them? China, Cuba, Belarus-_

There they were, leaning against the walls of the hall and watching it all happening. Russia bristled in anger, mewled as he felt betrayed, but then he heard China calling out to the overly excited group.

"Okay, do what we agreed! Give us some too."

 _Ah good,_ Russia thought. _They won't let them have all of the weapons, but by giving them some, everyone feels equal._

Lithuania neatly dropped off a handle into China's hand. It would have been unintelligent to threaten someone who was strong enough to easily disarm him. Cuba was given a weapon as well, but Belarus was not.

"Just two," Lithuania said. "The rest for us."

"Fine," Belarus responded.

Russia wavered, wondering if he should go down. No one looked particularly aggressive, but then Russia saw them emerging with more from the supply room.

Poland came out, gulping from almost completely frozen water bottle and running his brush through his hair. At that moment he decided he could not stand idly by, therefore Russia fled from the room and rushed down the stairs. When he skidded onto scene, those who were armed gasped and pressed against the walls with their arms and knives up. Russia ignored them and hurried to Poland. There was a sharp snap of plastic as Russia snatched the bottle from his hand, water splattering them both before Russia turned it and dumped the last unfrozen trickle against the wall.

Poland hopped away with huge eyes, wielding his brush out in front of him as though it were also a knife. Russia dropped the bottle as Prussia's voice rose up from further behind him, "That was drugged water! Don't drink from the bottles!"

Poland threw his hands over his throat and gasped out, "Oh crap! But I just totally drank that- should I puke?"

Russia shook his head, trying to use his face instead of his words to convey that he was not going to be harmed by the water. Although, there was no doubt that Poland was going to eventually fall unconscious for a brief period of time after what he had swallowed. He thought about telling him that he would be okay, but considered that him saying that would be taken as a lie.

Poland stopped looking so bothered. Russia moved back and looked around himself, checking where all the blades were. Poland lifted his arms and continued brushing his hair as Latvia finally braved peeking out from the supply room. When he saw Russia so close however, he pulled back into the room, dropping his glass shard and pocketing his hands. He squeezed Russia's phone in his left pocket, the phone charger in his right, while he dropped back behind some rubble and hid.

Russia missed him as he worried about those Lithuania and Estonia had armed. Those two had two each, then Prussia and Hungary one. Six knives against two, Russia counted, although he dreaded the result of if a knife fight were to ensue.

They waited for him to comment, to grow aggressive because of the weapons in their hands, and for him to try to disarm them. Russia did nothing and said nothing. He held his hands together and dropped his shoulders, casting saddened eyes over them all. His lack of reaction frightened them and he saw them flexing, as though about to spring. Russia's eyes widened then and he inhaled.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Hungary uttered, "Are you going to let us go?"

"Go where?"

"To America."

Russia did not know what to say. What power would the word _no_ have? If he said it, would they stick him right then and there? But he was afraid to say yes and lose them. Once they had crawled behind America's protection, they would never give him a chance. He stayed silent now, feeling that already too much had been said.

"Well?" she muttered.

China slipped through the people until he was beside Russia and a step in front. It kept them from moving forward, and saved Russia from having to answer.

"You are up here for a reason," China defended him. "You are meant to see something, so pay attention! Give Russia the chance he deserves. He is going to treat you better now. He knows now that it is bad to hurt you, so he won't do it!"

"Russia doesn't learn," Prussia uttered. "You should not support him."

"No, he does!" Ukraine called out in a plea. "Look at him trying not to scare you!"

 _What can I do?_ Russia thought. _Is there anything I can show them right now?_

Maybe he could touch China to demonstrate that he could do that without causing pain. He thought that China would not mind it. His hand slid up his back then rested warmly on his shoulder, and China did not act as though he noticed it was there. Russia's index and middle finger stretched out and stroked some locks of his hair, and he watched the slipping of luxurious blackness until his face fell peacefully.

He acted as though there was only China, so that they would believe that he had no interest in the dispute. China knew what he was doing so soon acted as though he enjoyed this a lot. He did not really revere physical contact, but the others might, if they allowed Russia to do this to them. China closed his eyes slightly and turned his head a bit into Russia's hand.

 _Is he okay with this now?_ Russia thought with a tinge of glee despite the situation. He closed his eyes as China, turned, turned- and hugged him. A smile stretched across his face that could not be prevented. He held his lower back and bent forward slightly, to close their height difference but not close enough for his face to touch his hair. For once, Russia held no knife and it was the other person armed with one, but how content he felt. China did not want to hurt him although he could.

"Thank you," was all he could manage to whisper. He peeked to the others and saw disgust on the faces directed toward China. They did not want him hugging Russia. He frowned and brought China closer to him, his eyes shutting again with his eyebrows troubled. His hands pressed into China's smaller shoulder blades, begging him to stay by his beating heart.

"Look," Cuba said. "Just be like that with him. I know the past wasn't good, but accept him how he is now."

Lithuania put in a monotone voice, "You mean the now, where he has threatened us and locked us up here with him?"

"He made mistakes because he was scared," Ukraine murmured. "Please, go to him. This is me asking. You may not want to listen to China, Cuba, or Belarus… but listen to me. Russia needs help, and if you help him, we will all have a safer future."

China withdrew to allow someone else to come in. Russia waited, arms limp and composure nervous and as vulnerable as he could make himself. Maybe now, he thought, they would attack him. But then Cuba strode forward to provide another example, and he held Russia tightly but carefully because of his injuries. After hurried in Belarus, and his eyes that had briefly revealed their shining amethyst colour closed again. He pet her hair from her head to its tips, until she retracted and Ukraine told hold of him.

So many different bodies trusting him, caring for him, and comforting him. Ukraine's fingers pressed into his lower back muscles as the first tears flashed out anew. Russia's heart jolted in fear and he turned his head to the side and down. He squeezed his eyes but they still saw them.

"What is this?" Prussia demanded. "Why are you crying again?"

"When do people cry?" Belarus snarled impatiently. "When they are upset. Russia cares so much about you but all you do is point knives against him."

Now they were looking conflicted, curt flashes of guilt breaking through the confusion, until the mixture of emotions scared Estonia into exclaiming, "We'll be going now! Don't try to stop us."

He skittered back, expecting to be pursued, and when was not, walked away with more confidence. Latvia flashed past Russia and made it to Estonia's side, then Lithuania and Poland peeled away and followed them.

"W-wait," Russia choked. "I am letting America come up today. I am going to talk to him so please stay… please. Until then."

Hungary and Prussia paused on their way after the others. The Baltics and Poland froze, whipping their heads back to him.

Russia put his hand to his face, stiffening his muscles in a feeble attempt to tame his quivering. "Don't leave," he whispered. "I won't do anything… Please don't leave me."

He was terrified. He wanted to snatch them and drag them back, but without this method available now he did not know how to handle this situation. Without force, he did not feel like he could do anything at all.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I didn't want anybody to get hurt." Russia wobbled and rubbed at his eyes constantly, burning them red. "It wasn't supposed to be this way… Don't leave me alone again."

His body could not support the world anymore. Russia dropped to his knees and crumpled with his tears, his face falling into the bed of his palms. Aghast expressions beheld him, so shocked by his breakdown that all that could be said at first were words of incredulity.

"What is happening?" Latvia whispered while creeping into Lithuania's side.

"Russia's crying," Lithuania breathed. They had noticed before, but now the reality had struck them.

They returned in a slow creep, eyes wide as they observed this strange creature in front of them. It was hardly recognizable and so the fear was slipping away to be replaced by concern.

"Russia?" Latvia asked softly. He did not answer. It was as though Russia was gone.

Cuba moved up behind Latvia, pushing his shoulder forward gently. Latvia went with the motion and dropped by Russia, who did not notice him at first. Latvia leaned back, stared at him, then he leaned forward with his hands on his quads. He looked back to the others and found Ukraine nodding to him encouragingly.

But he remembered the last time, the pain from being in his hold. Latvia flinched and leaned back again, until Russia's fingers folded and he flickered his eyes to him, two pools of vivid suffering finding him before locking themselves away behind his eyelids. Latvia then slid forward, quivering as he dared reach out a hand and touch this unfamiliar being.

The cloth of Russia's sweater was alarmingly soft under his fingertips. Latvia waited, but nothing happened. Ukraine urged him on and he trusted her. Latvia came around to his front and set his hands on his sides, sliding up toward his elbows pinned against his side. Still, Russia would not budge, until Latvia asked nervously, "C-can I hug you?"

Without an answer, Russia's arms slowly broke off his sides. Latvia held his rib cage and slid in, right until his face found the wonderfully soft cloth. The side of his head pressed against his chest and while there he heard his heartbeat, a fast tune that worried him.

"Russia," he murmured again, clarifying. Latvia closed his eyes and relaxed the longer nothing happened. _Ba-dum, ba-dum_ , until Latvia knew what he was meant to do.

"You can hug me back," he breathed.

Russia kept his eyes closed and did not speak, but then carefully arms wrapped around Latvia. There was no force now; only care. Latvia had never felt so safe to be here, against what actually felt like a living, breathing and feeling person. The gentlest fingers went over his back and Latvia felt no fear this time as Russia touched his hair, caressing its locks.

"Russia," Lithuania exhaled. Latvia looked up as Lithuania crouched down, blinking as Russia's hand stroked down his neck one last time. Latvia glided back and Russia let him free, only creaking open his saturated eyes to note Lithuania. He saw the knives drop before Lithuania replaced Latvia and held onto Russia, granting him the same permission as Latvia had.

"You can hold me," Lithuania whispered.

And he did, his shivering fading and his tears ceasing. Russia embraced Lithuania, until Estonia came forward and took his place. He allowed Russia to hug him, and Hungary did afterward. With a prompt from Lithuania, Poland took his turn, but not without a yawn into his shoulder and a comment about his growing fatigue.

Then came Prussia. He came to him with no command, and told him that he could be held so long as he would not harm him.

"I won't," Russia promised. His light thumb brushed over the bruises on his pale throat, so gently that there was no pain. Prussia relaxed and hugged him, feeling heaviness lifting off his shoulders as Russia rubbed his back. By the time he departed him, there were no more fresh tears. All had come to Russia, and now he felt so much lighter in the heart. All his crying today had indisputably exhausted him, but after all of the hugs, he welcomed the idea of sleep when cozied up with one of them.

"I want to wait for America," Russia murmured. "But now I am so very tired."

"I will wait with you." China came over and touched Russia on the arm. "I will look over you while you sleep, and help you if America attacks."

"Thank you," Russia sniffed, before looking up over at everyone else and saying softly, "Everything will be over soon. It will be okay."

They believed him. All knives had been dropped to the floor, but now no one wanted to recollect theirs. One-by-one, they headed back to the room with the food that had been scattered on the floor. China and Cuba helped Russia to his feet, then held onto him for a few reassuring moments.

"Do you want me to wait with the others?" Cuba asked.

Belarus and Ukraine were there too, wondering the same. Russia nodded, replying quietly, "I don't want to have too many supporters by me when he comes. It might look bad."

"I thought so."

"Mm…"

"Are you going to be okay?" Ukraine asked. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to," Russia exhaled. "There is nothing left to do."

"It will be okay," she said. "He will understand. Everything will go right."

"Okay," Russia mumbled, bowing his head and fixing his scarf.

"We'll see you later," Cuba murmured. "But if you need anything, yell for us. Everyone will help you now."

"Do you think?"

"Yes."

Russia smiled softly. Belarus came up and gave him one last hug, before he left down the hall with China. The others went back into the room, letting the hall fall into a silence owned only by Russia and China. They came by the blockage and sat on the landing, backs against the first step going up. Together they watched the pile for a while, wondering when it would move, and if they should help it.

"You know, I am in a lot of pain," Russia told him. "I just tried to hide it."

"Lie down." China guided his head down to his lap. "Let yourself rest. Today has been long."

Russia settled there, curling up slightly and placing a hand over one of China's knees.

"Let America come to us," China continued. "Sleep if you want to."

"I think I will," Russia mumbled. "It will be a good one, now that my heart feels better."

" _You_ are better. You're back."

"I am happy I am."

"Better even. You were strange for a while, but now you are calm."

Russia yawned, "Thank you… Sometimes I don't know what I am doing, but I am glad you kept your promise and helped me."

"Ah…" China lay his hand over his hair, petting it once so that Russia's eyes closed. "I forgot about that. It seems like forever ago."

Russia smiled. He curled up into his legs until every part of him rested in the most comfortable way. He sank first, then floated away like a feather carried by the breeze. Sleep had found him, but at points in his marvelous dream of colours he felt a warm hand touching his arm, still making sure that he was alright.


	16. Боль- Pain

"Alright." America stood before his armed group, frying pan clutched by a white-knuckled fist. "Quiet now. And carefully."

He led the mass down the hall, eyes narrowed and focused forward in the direction they were advancing. All mouths closed and they formed a line behind him once he reached the blockade of rubble. On this occasion, one side was focused on more and America put down his weapon to gently ease each piece out. Everything he handled was watched intently, in order to see what was shifted when he did so. He passed each thing down to Canada, who passed them to France, so that everything was deposited out of the way in the hall efficiently.

There would be no loud or dangerous avalanches now that he had fitted himself with a calm, calculating mindset. Soon they were gaining ground up the stairs on one side, each step a victory that boosted America's heart rate little-by-little. When he found himself getting quite high from the basement level, adrenaline began to pulse through his body. Sweat beaded on his face as a permanent grimace locked his facial muscles.

 _What am I going to find?_ he wondered. _Smears of blood on the walls? Bodies? What if he hears me… what if he is right there with a knife?_

The pain flaring almost unbearably in his body made him grow more nervous. He feared that Russia was not as injured as he was, for he could hardly remember what had been done to him. For all he knew, Russia could be vastly stronger right now considering that he was able to force more than half of the group upstairs with him. If they were to fight again, America worried that he would not have enough energy to last.

He started to imagine as he went higher, how he would defend himself from a knife with his pan if his movements would easily become too slow and weak. An image flashed in his mind, of blood flying and splattering the wall after ascending past his horrified face. America jolted, beginning to shake when the thought did not go away but stuck like glue to the inside of his skull. He remembered how much blood had coated the kitchen from the slice Russia had given Hungary's throat. Russia could surely cut deeper than that on him.

 _He was insane enough to plan all this… He might actually try to kill me if I go up there._

America tried to contain himself. He of all people, could not look afraid in front of the others. He had to be strong so that they would be as well, or else there was no chance of them winning. And yet no matter how he swallowed, stiffened, and tried to focus on his task, he could not lose his nerves.

 _Russia took all of the knives. What if he armed China? I can't take on both of them like that! And what if someone else gets hurt trying to help me? What if Germany is hurt even more? What if they stab Canada or Britain or France…_

He looked back at everyone behind him in concern. They were so high now. The floor above must surely be just one step away, and yet everything there was silent. America closed his eyes tightly, then reached out his hand behind him. He waited until his frying pan had been passed up the line and placed into his grasp, and for everyone else to have theirs. It was then that he inhaled and barreled into the last part, shoving all remaining material upwards and out until he burst onto the ground level behind it.

America's feet clapped onto the floor and before everything had finished skidding away, he saw them. Russia and China stood together just an arm's-length away, eyes widening while they stepped back. The weapon was seen, but America's anxiety to meet them allowed them no time to react.

With a mind full of the memory of China's fast kicks, America swept the pan to his side then lashed it out at him first. A loud bang cracked the air and China's head snapped to the side before he dropped. Russia scuttled backwards, throwing his arms out in front of him with a cry. In his retreat however, heels hit concrete and Russia tripped, his back crashing into the stairs as America lunged. Words flew from his mouth but none were heard as America saw a flurry of limbs and panicked, the flashing of his own pan being confused for the flashes of a knife's silver.

Frightened blue swept over him, seeing only a blur where Russia's equally terrified eyes were. He struck Russia's hands down and slammed his foot on his stomach, swiftly throwing the pan behind his head in preparation for a head strike. There was a gasp of horror from America when Russia caught the handle in full swing, both hands latching on and pulling the pan to his chest. As hard as he could America yanked back, although Russia only pulled it closer to his body where it could do no damage.

"America!" Russia yelled. "Stop this-"

America hardly heard him and did not allow him to finish. He threw himself back while slamming his foot down again into his stomach. Forgotten by America, here there were wounds still stretched across Russia's skin: bruises and scrapes from when America had done this to him in the kitchen. Russia bellowed and the handle slid from his fingers like grease. Now that America had regained comfortable control, he stumbled back then swung the pan back to ready another strike.

From the hall, there was a holler. America spun on his heels just as Cuba sprinted towards them, but instead of hearing his cries for him to stop, he could only recognize the arrival of a new threat. For in his terror-stricken mind, America saw only Cuba surrounded by those knives on the floor. There was nothing else for him to do but think, _He's going for the knives!_ and abandon Russia to attack Cuba.

Cuba passed by those notorious blades but America only raced to reach him. The pan snapped back but just before the blow could be delivered, a massive weight struck him and sent him flying. America's grip on the pan was kept even as it clanged on the floor and he coughed from the impact. No time was given to recover though, when Russia instantly pounced and spread over America, his limbs pressing down on his and pinning them.

Russia panted and his heaviness pressed America's cracked ribs into the tiles. America squirmed and shrieked, but his arms had already been pulled out and held into positions of weakness.

"Please listen!" Russia gasped. "Don't att-"

On this occasion, he was interrupted by a deep cry above him.

"Canada, no!"

Russia pressed down as Cuba sailed over them. Canada had emerged once America and Russia had moved out of the way, and he had bolted to the conflict with fire almost alive in his eyes after seeing America being thrown down by Russia. Cuba hopped into his path but Canada did not hesitate to attack. He charged in a zig-zag, throwing off Cuba then launching to one side and flashing out the pan. Like flicking a birdie, the metal tapped Cuba's head in a lightning-fast blur and he fell back into the wall with a holler.

Canada sprang onto Russia, tossing his pan to dig his claws into him. The amount of unbounded strength startled him and Russia rolled off to escape it, but Canada's blows followed him. Fists cracking this morning's injuries, and Russia screamed as he could no longer bear it. He knew he needed to defend himself, but at the cost of harming another. Canada's wrists were clamped onto and he immediately struggled, inhaling rapidly when Russia refused to let go. The grip tightened until Canada was reeling back and trying to escape. With huge eyes his knees flailed and tried to nail him, but Russia rolled onto his upper back and crammed his feet under Canada's stomach.

The others had already poured out from the room and were tearing toward the grunts and cries of fighting, and they watched as Russia released Canada's wrists then sent him flying down the hall towards them. Canada flopped onto the floor a tile before them but flashed up to his feet to join America in the pursuit of Russia as he doubled back and sprinted to the stairwell.

Ukraine hurried after them, wailing vainly another, " _Stop it_!"

Britain popped out his head then ducked down as Russia hurdled toward him. "Back!" he cried, forcing those behind him to drop down the stairs. The hole swallowed him up just as Russia leapt onto the landing and went the other way, scurrying up the stairs.

Canada, not as wounded as America, reached Russia first and dove to snatch his ascending ankles. At the feeling of cloth, his hands locked on and Russia gasped, his hands snapping out to break his fall. Promptly Russia twisted and crossed Canada's arms, kicking and heaving without success until he leaned forward to pry off his fingers. When freed, Russia turned to hop backwards up the stairs. When the second lunge he expected came, Canada found a foot slamming against his chest and firing him away.

Russia gasped when Canada flew over the landing and crashed into the barricade. A piece dropped away, unbalanced Canada, then he dropped down the stairs back into the hole. America screamed in bestial fury to see his brother harmed, and Russia respired rapidly as he heard the pounding footsteps approaching. He scrambled to prepare himself and when America came into sight, he leapt.

With perfect timing, America was struck down. Yet as he fell, America whacked Russia's shoulder and back mercilessly, making the bones ring and exploding blood beneath his skin. Russia fidgeted in terror, grabbing for whatever he could to try to defend himself from the agony.

"America!" Russia cried. "Stop, stop!"

And his crowd was pouring from the room, begging for it as well. Impossible it was though, for America to clear his mind when under Russia's restraining hold, so he struck again and again until Russia let go. America fell back into a kneel but struggled to stand. He gasped rapidly as Russia did, but then when Russia began to rise, he fell forward and cracked Russia on the knee.

America jumped up finally, only to be surprised when Russia limped hurriedly to him to give him a hefty shove in the chest. One yelp, then America tripped back and fell into the hole after Canada. Here one moment, then gone another, Russia was stunned although he had done it. For those couple of seconds without pain, all Russia could do was stare at where he had disappeared, trembling and with tears running down his face.

Everything hurt so much, but after America's determined yell from down below, Russia grabbed at the rubble and pushed it towards the contorted face flying up for him.

America's arms came up to defend himself. The rubble caught and clogged the path, then he snarled and pressed upwards with nearly all of the last of his strength.

"You bastard!" he screamed. "You can't escape me!"

America crawled after the toppling rubble back onto the landing. His head lifted and turned while hot air puffed past his lips, but Russia was nowhere in sight. He was gone.

"Where is he?" America roared. He flashed his head to the others, expecting an instant answer, but then none came. Confused, he inspected them to see if some kind of injury was incapacitating them. Ukraine was sobbing. America blinked for many long, tranquil seconds, until he could finally feel the haze of his fear lifting and see their expressions more clearly.

"Russia…" she mewled. "Russia…"

America did not know what she meant, assuming that she was left in trauma from something Russia had done. He moved out of the way as Canada came out, then Britain, Japan, France, and Germany.

"Search everywhere!" America barked. "Bring him to me!"

America took Britain up the stairs with him. As the other four proceeded down the hall, Austria and Italy dared to sneak up now that it was quieter. Upon seeing the gathering of those who had been previously stolen, they trotted over. Both groups met, but there was not much to rejoice over. Germany swept his eyes over the cuts on Lithuania's and Estonia's throats, and although he had expected worse, this infuriated him.

"Russia hurt you."

"No, no he didn't!" Lithuania gasped. "You don't understand…"

"It was me," Belarus said. "Russia did not want to hurt anybody."

"Where's Poland?" France asked suddenly. "He was with you!"

"In the room," Estonia replied. "But he-"

They were already running there. At first they thought Russia was in here, but then all they found was Poland stretched out on the floor with his eyes closed. Japan strode ahead and shook him, but there was no response.

France cried out, "What has Russia done?"

Lithuania burst in, clutching the door frame. "He is fine!" he exclaimed. "He only drank the water. The drugged water."

"Drugged water?" Germany growled. "What drugged water?"

"Uh oh..." Lithuania breathed to himself.

"Russia drugged him," France repeated in an inhale.

"No, but… yes. I mean, you have to listen to us!"

Cuba was back on his feet, shoving his way into the room. "You have to stop attacking Russia. This is going too far, and all he wanted to do was talk!"

"Talk?" Canada's breathing slowed as he now became able to listen. "About what?"

"About how bad he feels about what he's done." Cuba touched the bump on his head. "That he really just wanted to be your friends but he was so scared that he did bad things."

"Is this true?" Japan asked. "Russia knew we were coming and only wanted to talk to us?"

Germany growled, "That cannot be true. There were knives all over the floor for back-up."

"Those just happened to be there," Lithuania said. "Russia didn't put them there."

"Are you trying to say he is non-aggressive," Germany uttered, "when he was the one who took them in the first place?"

"You took the first knife." Prussia slid into the room and locked gazes with Germany. "And you refused to give it up because you wanted everyone to be mad at Russia. You cannot say that we aren't aggressive either."

Germany's eyes widened at Prussia's reveal, but he kept himself cool even as faces stared at him with fresh aghast.

"Russia was telling the truth," Latvia whispered. "You did give the knife to Prussia, and he attacked Russia with it in the kitchen."

Hungary was stunned and self-consciously touched her throat. Germany shook his head and replied more softly, "I did not say I was free of blame. But, the fact remains that Russia took all the knives for a reason as well."

"But Russia learned what he did was wrong." Ukraine dabbed at her eyes. "I am so proud of him… Please stop hurting him- he is already in so much pain."

The newcomers were quieting as they were drained of the usual mob blood-lust they had had before. France looked around at their earnest faces and sighed, "So we attacked without reason."

"Oh no," Canada breathed. "I didn't know… I thought…"

"You have to do something!" Ukraine cried, beginning to shake. "He ran upstairs, and America-"

Germany inhaled sharply then hurled his injured mass forward. "We have to stop him!"

All in the room poured out from the single door, the crowd of assorted injuries rushing down the hall with only Poland being left behind. There was an earthquake of footsteps cracking the floor accompanied by a series of yells, as all headed in their decided direction in hopes that they would not be too late.

* * *

Russia squeezed himself into the thinnest form he could muster. He pulled the door tight against him and raised his arms to flatten himself even further. He sucked in and breathed with difficulty, his chest shrieking as his body begged to draw in more oxygen. Despite the agony however, Russia quieted himself when he heard footsteps racing closer.

A locked door was yanked out in the hall but then Britain cried, "Down there! I see a door open!"

Russia fought to control his shivering. All of him hoped that they would not believe he could possibly fit behind this door. America and Britain burst into the room, but their attention was immediately pulled away from the door beside them to the running screens to the left.

"What?" America cried. "He had surveillance this whole time?" He stalked toward the desk. "Perfect… Let's see where he's hiding."

America sat in the chair and took the time to recapture his breaths while he figured out the system. "Watch the hall," he told Britain. "If you see him, close the door."

Britain stationed himself in the doorway and turned his head constantly left-to-right. America flashed through the different views, calming down the longer he was away from Russia. With the advantage of the cameras, he even began to feel more powerful. Some confidence returned and America found that he was able to think properly again.

"Alright," he breathed. "Where is he hiding?"

He searched and searched. Britain waited, and after a stressful while had passed, he called back, "Where is he?"

"I don't know… I haven't found him yet."

"He might be in one of the toilets."

"Hold on," America replied. "A few more left."

He kept looking, eyes narrowed on each view provided. Chills started racing up his back, and to offset the rising feeling of dread, America muttered, "This is freaking Five Nights at Russia's…"

Half a face peeked out from behind the door. There, was Britain distracted, with his back to him as he focused entirely on the hall. America was still scrutinizing the screens and did not hear Russia step across the carpet and stop in the middle of the room. Heart pounding, Russia took a couple of seconds exposed in the open to figure out how he was going to manipulate his voice to get the right tone.

"I don't want to fight you," Russia eventually murmured. America shot out from his chair with a yell as though a ghost had just whispered in his ear. Britain whirled around with his jaw dropping and first he desperately tried to figure out just how he had gotten past him.

America pressed back into the desk with his pan held up and against his chest, immobile and cautious. He did a scan of Russia but was now able to realize that he was unarmed. A step was taken forward in the temptation of the advantage, until Russia inhaled and threw up his hands to protect his face. America froze at that reaction, startled when Russia did not rush at him but had flinched from the aggression. The pan fell down to his side as he peered at Russia, who dropped his hands now and gazed at him with profound worry.

He could see his eyes again, the detail of the lines of his irises and the slight variation in the shades of purple. America stared right into them, his grimace faltering as he recognized the shining of his eyes that was betraying his emotions. As the wrinkles of America's face disappeared, it was as though he was seeing Russia anew. There he was, tucked up in a soft sweater and track pants and watching him with loosened muscles. Tall and broad though he was, he did not look anymore at all like the enemy he had imagined.

America's eyes fell down the lengths of his scarf. They were askew; it was so unnatural and concerning. He dared a step closer to Russia, who flinched again, until America took another calm step so that he relaxed. He stopped less than a metre away from him, tilting his head while Britain crept around behind and to his side. Russia bowed his head in his nervousness and whispered past his tight throat, "I know I did bad things… Please listen to me. I will be honest with you now."

America and Britain said nothing as they did what they had been instructed.

"I... tricked you all to get you stuck down here, using General Winter to break certain parts of the building…"

They jolted. Russia's apprehension built so he relayed the rest at an increasing tempo.

"I drugged your water so I could have time to do it. I promise, I promise…" He squeezed his eyes closed now and clenched his body. "That you weren't supposed to get crushed. I was going to move you but… it happened too early."

America recoiled sharply and cried, "You drugged us?"

Russia stumbled back as America strode forward.

"So this was a trap!" he shrieked. "I should never have trusted you to give me anything! You just wanted to be the hero, _saving_ everyone, but it was all a lie! You built this building too, didn't you? So you could have it destroyed!"

Russia backed up to the door. His eyes held onto them, displaying internal suffering and terror in the face of their fury. He hesitated, then nodded once quickly, trying to get the response out as fast as possible. He just hoped America would see all of his regret on his face so that he had not need to say it.

"I can't believe it!" Britain cried with a single step back. America gave one massive twitch, and his face transmogrified into the mask of a demon. The fragile ceasefire shattered and Russia flashed away a moment before America charged after him.

He struggled to close the gap between them. In desperation, he caught the longer end of the scarf fluttering behind him. America pulled, but the scarf only slid around his neck and came free. Russia gasped but continued racing to the stairwell where a horde of arriving screams were now erupting from. He crashed into the group of people but in their confusion and concern to see a terrified and de-scarfed Russia, they let him scrape by them.

Then came America, blowing out air like an enraged bull. Immediately hands flew out to stop him, but they could not bar him. He ran into them all until he was only slowed as though caught in the tangles of a web.

Canada latched onto him and gasped, "America, stop! Let him go!"

"You don't know what he did!" America squeezed the scarf tighter as its softness infuriated him. He threw off Canada then shouldered past the others, bowling them to the sides as he watched Russia landing on the bottom. He raised his frying pan into the air and flew down the remaining steps, knocking away those who did not move fast enough. Germany made an effort to grab him, yelling but missing, and his outstretched hand pointed at Russia's yelping form as America dove down upon him.

The scarf was dropped but the wrist of the pan-wielding hand was caught as he swung it. America and Russia locked onto each other and pushed with all of their might to unbalance the other person. Trembling, America snarled, "I got you! Give up!"

Russia's feet slid back. He panted as the others cried out again and dashed down to them. Before hands could be laid upon America to drag him away, he gave one last shove and Russia tripped back over the edge. He yipped and grabbed at wall as he fell back, only to find that there was no railing. Russia dropped through empty air, crying out and grabbing for anything. A hand caught a chair on his descent, dislodging other material and causing a mini avalanche.

Items pursued him and hid his falling figure from sight. Italy slapped his hands over his face and pressed behind Germany while so many watched with gaping astonishment. As rubble struck the steps, they could not hear when Russia's body collided with them and rolled down after some horrid cracks. The screams just stopped however, and when everything had settled, there was only silence.

It was interrupted by a screech. Belarus leapt over China's unconscious body and flung herself onto America's back. He crumpled then jerked himself to the side sharply, throwing her off but not without her nails scraping across the skin of his nape. America jumped up but immediately Canada grabbed his shoulders then spun him around to face him.

"Why couldn't you just listen to us?" he exclaimed. "You only made the situation worse!"

"What are you talking about?" America hollered, adrenaline pumping as he noticed the horrified faces directed at him. The confusion elevated his fear and his heart began to be heard pounding in his ears.

Just behind his peripheral vision, Belarus sprang. America turned his head at the sound just in time to catch her backhand across his cheek. His face did not move but the red imprint of her hand marked his skin. America looked more worried as he demanded of her fierce gaze, "What is it?"

"You don't realize what you've done!" she snarled. "You hurt him more with no reason!"

"No reason?" America boomed. "Don't you know what he did? He drugged us! He collapsed this building on purpose!"

"We know that," Estonia replied. "But he knows it was wrong… He felt bad for what he did."

"He wanted to tell you that," Cuba muttered. "He was going to apologize but you just attacked him."

America hated the accusing gazes upon him. "How was I supposed to know that?" he shot back in his defense. "When I came up and he was just there, I was scared! He shouldn't have done that!"

While he was looking to those standing on the steps, Belarus slapped him again. America's face twitched and the red deepened in colour.

"That's enough!" Ukraine cried, skittering downstairs and grabbing onto Belarus's forearms. "Russia needs our help!"

She dragged her down the steps until they reached the small blockage. Ukraine yanked out a piece and handed it back to Belarus. She accepted it and turned, finding that America had moved in behind her with his hands held out. His standoffish behavior was sapped and now he looked afraid again, regretful of what he had done. America took the piece and tossed it back onto the floor behind him while many owlish eyes blinked at him.

Very soon they broke through and were racing downwards to the visible form lying still on its side. Ukraine and Belarus dropped in front of Russia, touching and caressing his hair to comfort him in his pain. There was fresh blood breaking across his face and likely under his clothes over new bruises, but the extent of his injuries could still be greater. America stepped near them but stood back awkwardly, looking over what he had caused with tight lips.

"Russia," Ukraine murmured in Russian, leaning down to kiss his temple. "Are you alright?"

He closed his eyes, seeming to relax with another kiss by his hair. He mumbled, "Don't move me. Give me some time but… I think it would be bad if I do that now."

Belarus asked quietly, "Is it serious?"

"It will be okay," was all he replied with.

America summoned up enough courage to come closer. He walked around to Russia's back, wondering why no one was coming downstairs now. America quietly knelt down and lifted his hands, both hovering over his body as though he were warming them in front of a fire. Before contact was made however, Russia uttered, "Do not touch me, America."

America was taken back. He dropped his hands and stood, looking to Ukraine and Belarus beseechingly. Ukraine, with tears in her eyes, waved him away. Something clutched at his chest and throat, then America hurried away. He did not go back upstairs. America retreated down the hall to the cafeteria, where he found a chair to sit in and a table to rest his exhausted body over.

Flashes of Russia's scratches and bruises went by in his mind. America exhaled deeply and put his face into his bent arms. Every one of his injuries had been caused by him, and just a short while ago, he had wanted to inflict more pain upon him. Now he wished he could take a cloth and wipe the wounds away, where somehow the red and black would disappear in an instant like they had never existed.

 _I don't want to fight you_ , Russia's words were now received by him. America pulled at his hair as the echos of everyone calling for him to stop rang throughout his mind. He did not know how he had missed them, or rather- how he had ignored them.

"Ah dammit…" he groaned. "I really went too far…"

Russia's concerned accent replayed in his mind and America tapped at his temples.

 _I know I did bad things… Please listen to me. I will be honest with you now._

"He _said_ that he knew he did bad things. Jeez, why did I attack him then?" America breathed. "Why didn't I just _listen_? He was only going to tell me everything… I shouldn't have acted like that. It's damn hard getting the truth out of him and if he just expects to be attacked for saying it, then I'm just going to get lies from now on."

America fell quiet when he heard light footsteps coming his way.

"America..." Ukraine came in with a murmur. "Russia wants to see you now."

"He does?"

"He still wants to talk to you. But please… don't be so mad at him. Russia cares and I hope you will see it."

America dragged himself to his feet and headed out of the room. She escorted him, but when he saw Russia lying on the floor he only wanted to rush to him. Ukraine's presence restricted him however. Then as he came around to Russia's front side, America tried not to make eye contact with Belarus. He sat down but kept his hands on his lap as Russia looked over to him.

"America," he whispered as Ukraine and Belarus departed to give them privacy. "I am very sorry."

America did not seem to realize what Russia had said initially. But then Russia repeated it and America was left stunned. Russia grew afraid from America's silence. He went on in case it was not enough and America was not deciding to forgive him.

"I hurt people again even though I didn't want to… I feel bad that I scared everyone, made you angry, and injured you." Russia closed his eyes. "When I planned this I never imagined anyone would be hurt like this, in the physical and emotional way… But I should have known it because I prepared for failure then I ended up relying on it."

America sighed, "Why are you saying this?"

Russia stiffened and inhaled. Mistaking his tone, he only continued in a hurt whine, "I was not realizing this whole time that love cannot be a forced thing… Not everyone will agree with me and I have to be able to accept when they say no, even if I cannot understand the why. I can't touch or hold people even if it won't hurt them, because even something that does not do the harm can be unwanted… So I learned this and I want to remember it, and I want you to know that I understand this now. I hope you will forgive me, because I still really want to be your friend, but if you don't want it I will not be bothering you again..."

America could hardly fathom what was being said. He stuttered, "No, I meant why are you asking for forgiveness? I was the one who attacked you every time. I hurt you for no reason so I should be the one apologizing."

A tear fled one of Russia's eyes as he protested, "No, it is fine! I did bad thing so it is only right that I received the pain. I understand now why you became angry."

America murmured, "That's not right, dude. Don't think you deserved this because I know I went too far. I said to you earlier, that I was purposefully being rude to you, and that itself was wrong. It was also wrong of me to always attack first then listen after. It just made everything worse and I hurt you and other people when no one had to be. So _I_ am sorry about that. Looking at you and knowing that I did all that… I feel bad."

"You feel bad for me?" Russia whispered. "That sounds strange."

"Why?"

"You never cared before."

"Well, I do now."

Russia asked, "Is that allowed?"

America shrugged. "I don't know. We'll find out."

Russia frowned and exhaled. "I don't like the sound of that. I really want to be your friend. My boss would allow it, because it would make our lives easier. But yours… I don't understand him. Can we be friends?"

"I really don't know… especially after this."

More tears. "So you will tell him," Russia murmured.

"I kind of have to. If I don't, someone else will, then I will get in trouble for not having had said something before."

"I am sad… I didn't want it to end like this..." Russia's eyes squeezed together, but the tears kept escaping him. America wavered, looking around himself before he asked gently, "Can I touch you?"

"What?" Russia sniffed.

"Am I allowed to touch you now?"

His eyes flickered open, shimmering and delicate. Russia wanted to nod, but could not with his cracked neck, so he sighed, "Yes, yes…"

Chills consumed him when America's hands rose then touched him by his neck. Russia looked away as America stroked the locks of his hair like he had observed his sisters doing before. He ran his hand gingerly down the back of his head to his neck, from his downy crown to his shoulder blades. Russia cringed when America's fingers touched his scars, but the more he touched them the more comfortable he grew.

"Where are those from?" America inquired gently.

"Ah… You don't know me at all."

"I guess not."

Russia paused. America pulled the hair by his forehead carefully, reminding himself of when they had kept each other warm that one night when Russia had a sort of nightmare. Russia glanced up past his arm to his face, eyes bright as he asked, "America?"

"What?"

"It feels like we were cold again. All this pointless fighting, a struggle for power… and then I will be going home defeated and lonely."

"It's not like that," America insisted. "It isn't the same."

"Oh but, it is the game again where we both try to be the hero," Russia explained. "The game of power and ego where we have our roles, with a glorified winner and the despised loser. And it is no secret which role you and I are taking. All I wanted inside was the friendship, family feeling, and cooperation. But it got screwed up. What happened? I didn't want to play the game but here we are again. I wonder if we will ever stop it. Maybe when one of us finally dies."

"Don't say depressing stuff like that." America did not cease petting him. "It is different this time. We learned, didn't we? And look at what I am doing now. And what we did. We made cookies together. I call that progress!"

"Yes but, you will go home. Then it will go back to normal."

"Oh come on!"

"You will hate me again because that is how it is. And I will probably hate you too, although I still want to work with you instead of against you." Russia sighed. "Soon, I will look at you and think about what would happen if I crushed your glasses and rubbed the sharp pieces into your eyes."

"Come here," America breathed, already beginning to lay his arm around him. When he lay against him, Russia pressed his face down into his hair and felt spiders of delight dancing in his heart. He asked however, if America minded if he would be held by him.

"Go for it," America answered. Russia put his arm over him and encouraged him closer, inhaling contentedly. His head tucked itself under his chin and Russia was overtaken by the pleasant feeling of his soft hair. Warmth flooded his heart and the spiders crawled all over it, their spindly legs making him sigh. Yet as he was not sure of what he was allowed to do, Russia only mildly nuzzled him and lightly rubbed his back.

"This might be the last time I can do this," America murmured, unhappy to have to say this at this time. "You know that, right?"

He had not wanted to get his hopes up, and America ached when Russia hummed sadly into his hair, "I know."

Russia began petting his hair now, slowly and gently. He was glad no one was coming down to disturb them, when he was sure to cry again. For after a few moments, Russia left his face in his hair and whispered, "But can I have just one day? If it really is never going to happen again, can you stay, just for a while longer? Our bosses aren't around… No one has to know."

"You said you were too hurt to move," America said. "And we aren't going to leave without you. So yeah, of course I will stay."

Russia sniffed softly and let his tears fall onto the ground instead of dampening America's hair. "Thank you," he whispered. "Just one day would mean so much to me. No matter what happens next, I can always think back to it and be glad that I had it."

"But who knows?" America tried to console him, discontented since he knew that Russia was struggling with his tears. "We could have another one."

America felt him shivering and he touched Russia's hair again to calm him.

"I really want to think of you as a part of my family," Russia softly breathed. "When we are nice like this, I wish we could always be so close."

The lower part of Russia's face tilted in. He paused to ask, "Is it okay?" and America understood. With his permission, Russia kissed his hair once very lightly.

 _One day_ … Russia thought, holding and snuggling up as though he would sleep again. _Just one last day..._


	17. The Final Day

When the first footstep was heard placing itself on the uppermost stair, America dragged himself away from the pocket of warmth offered by Russia. He was immediately stared at with an upset expression, but America sat back with discomfort and waited until the person made it down to their level.

Even when it was only shown to be Canada who had arrived, America was glad that he had not seen how close he was to Russia. Proceeding with gentle steps, Canada held up his forearms which had Russia's scarf carefully folded over them. Russia cast his frown up to him as he knelt down. Canada saw his face, he asked, "Is everything okay?"

"It is…" Russia trailed off and set his eyes upon his scarf.

Canada looked to America, clarifying, "You two aren't angry anymore, are you? You talked?"

"Oh yeah… It's cool now, don't worry."

Canada nodded with satisfaction. Reaching out the scarf to Russia, he whispered, " _Here_ " and began unfolding it. Russia blinked at him from where he was lying on his outstretched arm, then lifted himself up carefully. A quick screech of pain escaped him, to which Canada recoiled sharply.

"Don't move!" he gasped.

"No." Russia bared his teeth. "Put it on. Quickly."

Canada shot forward and wrapped it around his neck. Russia dropped back down when it was done, breathing deeply to concentrate on something other than his pain. Everyone's widened eyes shrunk back to their normal size and Canada now took the time to reach out and stroke his hair to soothe him. America was stunned to see it, but Canada persisted being as mild as possible and soon Russia went quiet, smiling under the caresses.

When catching sight of his smile, Canada could not help but don one of his own. Russia breathed out his words of thanks for returning his scarf to him, and Canada looked over him tenderly as he carefully adjusted the its ends over his sweater. America's shoulders dropped in recognition that Canada was also making up for his rash and aggressive behaviour from earlier. No longer did Canada reject him, but now demonstrated proper caring by coming down and hugging him.

Russia hummed and instantly slid his arm around him. Here he happened to catch his scent, which he found to be interestingly about the same as America's.

"I heard that everyone hugged you and it made you feel better," Canada spoke up. "So…"

Canada settled down to hold him for a little longer still, aware of the importance it held. Both closed their eyes as full feelings of warmth eased them, and America even felt comfortable enough to reach his hand over and continue touching Russia's crown. Russia peeked over at him and gave him a smile as well, before resting into his brother's hair.

"It's better than fighting," America commented. "Hugs and stuff, I mean. It's like having all the weight off your shoulders."

"It is," Canada replied. "If only times could always be so calm. No fighting."

"Mm, it could be like this," Russia exhaled. "If no one ever talked about politics again. Which is impossible of course."

Growing more comfortable, America now said to Canada, "We've pretty much decided that we'll spend one more day here with him, and while no one is looking, we'll be as nice as we want to be to each other."

"That's nice," Canada agreed. "No one will get in trouble that way."

Then Canada shifted up and touched his face to Russia's forehead. Immediately he was startled and Russia asked, "Why did you do that?"

"It is the only time I can," Canada answered. "Also, I was also told that you wanted to have a sort of big, happy family, where people would treat you like this."

"It is true," Russia admitted. "The idea makes me happy."

Canada slipped both his hands to his own chest then lay them against Russia's sweater. He felt so small and cold against him that Russia felt utter bliss in the opportunity to warm him up. Canada's head turned against his loose but thin sweater, catching the tune of his heartbeat. It was listened to until he was thoroughly made warm, then Canada left another chaste kiss and slowly slipped away.

Canada sighed, "I better go upstairs and tell everyone that everything's alright."

"Wait," Russia told him. "How is everyone? China and Cuba, are they okay?"

"Yes. Well, China hasn't woken up yet but we put him on the carpet."

"Make sure he is warm," Russia told him. "Take good care of him."

"We will," Canada promised, beginning to stand. He looked around them then back down to America and Russia. As he departed, he bid them to take care, then squeezed upstairs past the remaining rubble. Russia peered up past the hand still resting in his hair as America's head was turned to watch Canada leave. He said nothing as though he had forgotten it was there. Russia waited, but then eventually the hand moved and America looked back to him.

"Good?" America asked.

"Mm-hmm."

America slid around and flopped back down onto the floor. He lay higher up this time and Russia now found his face resting against America's suit. His arm fell over him and it was discovered to Russia's surprise that he was the one going to be held. A mix of excitement and melancholy struck him, and he pressed in closer to try and envelope himself in the warm feeling of safety.

These hands were not going to hurt him anymore. America lay over one arm, but his left hand curled and rubbed a lock of hair while the right hand grazed his back; all a displayal of his ability to be gentle. With only the use of his feet, America skillfully dragged his shoes off and tapped them away with his toes. Russia went even more limp as he felt America relaxing and settling, their fatigue shared and laying a soothing cover over them. Russia exhaled gently and slipped his arm around him once again, but not without a dejected mumble.

"Why did you leave me when Canada came?" he asked. "They saw us before and you were not minding then."

"I don't know… I was just starting to think that if people thought I was too close to you, it would not go well."

Russia sighed, "But why don't you want to be close to me? What is wrong with being my friend?"

"I told you I might not be allowed to be your friend…"

"I know. I mean for the one day. Show everyone how good friends we are today, then the enemies we are tomorrow."

America said, "But they won't forget, and I'm worried that some won't trust me anymore if I…"

"This offends me."

His fingers stroked through Russia's hair. He whispered reassuringly, "It might not stay like this for long. All it could take is another change in leaders and maybe everything will be different. We can be proper allies."

Russia wanted to shake his head but he kept himself still. Only his fingers curled over America's side as he murmured, "Please don't let me go. We only have one day… It doesn't matter if everyone else here sees this."

Those fingers initiated tickling shivers that were welcomed in his spine. America shifted closer and gave in, breathing, "I already did it before… I guess there's no point in holding back now, huh?"

Russia mumbled an agreement. America rested his straight arm but gave Russia another backrub; a promise that he now was truly going to stick to his word and stay with him. More tired they grew, but America could not let his guilt go unsaid. He stroked a thumb over his sweater and said, "I am sorry I hurt China… and tried to attack Cuba."

"Oh, my poor friends," Russia sighed. "But you should say these words to them, not me."

"I will... don't worry." America closed his eyes. "I feel like I frigged up this whole experience too so I got to make up for it."

The sharp prick in his throat that made America cringe- once again he had remembered how he had not even tried to communicate with Russia or China. They had just been standing there, but like a feral beast he had only struck out of fear and anger. Russia seemed to miss his moment of regret, pulling his arm down and tucking it against America's chest, laying just as Canada had.

A murmur came from Russia, "So you will not be angry at me later?" Becoming smaller, Russia pressed into America's comfort and hoped to be protected from all the misfortune that could be.

America replied after a pause, "I _am_ angry, but I can't express it in any way because I don't want you to feel any worse. Too much has happened to you so I only want to comfort you."

"Even if you are angry?"

"I'm not _that_ angry anymore. There were some accidents involved but your intentions weren't bad- although your methods were pretty twisted. It's my boss though, who will hate this. And the countries who weren't here are really going to be pissed at you when they find out."

Such words dismayed Russia, but he could not hold onto the feeling when America readjusted his hug to remind him of his available heat. Russia found that he no longer wanted to think of the future either, wishing to lock them both into the affection of now. He never wanted to be let go of again, now that America had taken him in. Russia soon found himself thinking on a loop because of it.

 _Please hold me, please hold me, please hold me…_

And he hardly realized he had begun whispering it. America's heart clenched and he could not believe at first that Russia was expressing such vulnerability. Today was not the day to take advantage of it, although it might be the only day as well that Russia would allow himself to be protected by him.

 _It's like he's letting_ _me be his hero._

Naturally America could not deny him safety when he was so small and in need. The protective urges he felt to shelter smaller nations from Russia were now directed upon him instead. America put his face into Russia's hair as he had to him just previously, and he rested his entire forearm along his back.

"I got you," he murmured, the assurance hushing him. When Russia's whispers faded, America added softly, " _Spokoynoy nochi_ , Russia."

Russia went without words, but they were not needed. America could feel the calm as all shivers left Russia with every sorrow and ounce of doubt. He fell asleep first and America sensed the smile lingering on his lips. He found one on his own as well before everything began to fade.

America dropped away into slumber with Russia always kept secure by his heart. For if there was to be only one more day, there was no point in believing that any other day would exist, or ever had.

* * *

America opened his eyes first and checked around them, but nothing had changed and they were still alone. Russia was breathing slowly beside him, deep asleep as his body recovered from its mistreatment. America's hands reached down to fix his clothes, but the pulling motions roused Russia abruptly and he murmured lethargically into him, "America…"

"Yeah?"

Russia did not continue. When America had gone still he seemed to have dozed off again. After tucking himself deep into the pocket of warmth again, America too fell back asleep but woke up again much later. Everything felt so quiet then and he wondered if the others had packed it up for the day and if they had checked on them once more. Stiffening and quivering his muscles out into a stretch, Russia was awoken again but for a purpose this time.

"I'll be back," America told him. "Do you need anything? Some water?"

"A little," Russia yawned back.

However he readjusted his arm around him and relaxed again. America laughed softly and said, "I have to get up."

"Mmm..."

America pulled back and Russia's arm allowed itself to slide off. It was made even more clear that he did not want America to leave when he whispered, "Please do not be long."

America dropped his hand on his shoulder. "I won't be," he vowed, before limping away and leaving an imprint of heat on Russia's skin.

America was watched retreating down the hall then going into the washroom. When he came out and went to the cafeteria, Russia gritted his teeth and pushed himself up. With rapid breaths and whines, he managed to get to his feet, then he slowly proceeded down the hall, trembling while trying to keep himself straight.

Russia was gone by the time America had returned with a cup in his hand. He stared at the empty spot at the end of the hall and gawked, unable to believe that he had been able to move himself at all.

"Yo, dude!" he called. "Where did you go? I thought you weren't supposed to move!"

But then the only logical explanation opened itself up for him. America glanced toward the washroom and shrugged. He waited outside for him, and when he came out, America instantly supported him while pressing, "I thought you said you were too hurt to do anything."

"I am but… It would be embarrassing to ask for help with this."

"Whatever. Here, let's lie you back down."

America held around his waist and began taking him toward the room at the end of the hall. "Let's go to the carpet. It'll be much more comfortable."

The going was very slow and Russia emitted high-pitched sounds of pain randomly as they went along. America would stop and ask if he was fine, but Russia urged them to press on as quickly as possible so they could lie down. They dropped down in the middle of the room, but the door was purposefully left open to make it easier for the others to find them.

While he was sitting up, America moved the cup near Russia's face, who took it between his hands and brought it to his own lips. America drank more after him then placed the cup on the desk. As he moved back into his side, Russia breathed, "This is much better. It is almost like we are in a bed, just a little hard and with no pillows or blankets."

"Well…" America dragged off his suit jacket. He threw it over them as he snuggled in again, a little blanket to contain them. Russia smiled at the gesture and they were calm and still once more. Their ears perked however at the sound of voices and feet approaching, and before they received the chance to fall asleep, they lifted their heads.

The moment the first arrival came in, Russia chirped, "China! You are okay!"

There was an awful bruise of brown and blue on the side of his head, but he stood straight in proof of his remaining strength. China strolled in, regarding the tangle of two people then coming down beside it. Russia gasped happily when China rubbed his arm and back, initiating contact without him even asking for it.

France came in after him, reacting when Russia and America did not cease holding on to each other. "And again!" he exclaimed just before gliding down to China's side. Here, France did not shy away from the allowed temptation and China even moved back so that he could take over. Like an expected guest, France's arm curved around him while he laughed softly to have succeeded in making it here.

Russia jolted when he pressed in tight against him without a care, but when nothing happened, he permitted it to pass. It became more pleasant as time passed and more dropped in around him. France did not seem like he planned on going anywhere, completely content was he to get to curl around Russia.

And France chided him. "Russia, if only you could always be this sweet!"

He could not help but smile among the arms. China settled down by America, who was apologizing profusely and turning to offer himself up to comfort him as well. Russia shifted in and put his face and hand over America's chest just as China agreed and settled into his other side. France fell around Russia again just as America realized how amazing it was to have both his most powerful rivals resting on either side of him.

Russia wondered who was petting his hair at this time. The hands did not have the shape of one of his sisters. His eyes flashed over and found that it was Britain's hands which were engaged in caressing him, although that face looming over him was utterly neutral. It was as though Britain was unaware of what he was doing, but felt compelled to touch him regardless.

Worried that he would scare him off, Russia kept quiet and let it continue. Fingers swept around his crown and a shiver ran down his back, slipping past France's stomach. Overwhelmed by a sense of euphoria, Russia's fingers started rubbing a soft circle over America's stomach. Promptly the feathery feeling infected the other person. America felt dancing dots of cotton on his back and he smiled whilst drawing China closer to him.

The cozy feelings spread like spores, covering them all and sprouting new growth. Prussia came in and deposited Poland by the Baltics, who were just laying themselves down onto the carpet. The unconscious body was immediately shifted closer, enveloped in their arms to protect him from the cold. Then, to protect themselves, each of them pressed closer to the nearby bodies.

Silence was descending, layers of thickening peace as one-by-one, they dropped to flank around the core. Slow breaths, gentle holds and touches, and the circle expanded to accommodate all. No one was left alone. Every one of them nestled into the arms of someone else with minds cleared of hesitation and spite. Britain whispered to Russia wishes of a good night, then the same to all around him, whose hair and foreheads he felt with thin touches. Darkness was falling over Russia just as Britain drew back and collapsed into Canada's embrace.

 _This is happiness_ , Russia knew, tender feelings pulsing within him as though his body was not large enough to contain them all. He nuzzled and breathed, " _Everyone's together… It's so nice. I'm so happy_ …"

France sighed a laugh and pressed his lips against his nape. " _Anytime_ ," he whispered back, the only one to respond, and the one who laughed quietly to ease him. Then he gave a hum, and tucked his face close again until his facial hair tickled his skin.

Russia listened to the last rustles before all eighteen hearts settled and surrounded him. All sounds of life were revered once again, their collective gentle respiration a tune his heart memorized. Then, the most loved of all these sounds- the heartbeat below his ear. As his body slackened, Russia listened to the heartbeat that was the steady proof of America's love and his need to be loved. Here they were the same.

No matter what would occur next, Russia knew he could not forget this fact.

He slept in trust that tonight he would be safe.

* * *

China and Russia were still cuddling each of his sides by the time America woke. More than this, everyone had kept together to last the chill of the many hours. America shifted and smiled, amazed by it all, and wondering why they had never done this in the past. He then began stroking both Russia's hair and China's, until they stretched and looked up to him with tranquil and drowsy gazes.

America quivered in a stretch, then relaxed with a yawn. They were carefully squeezed before America sighed, "Morning… How you feeling?"

"Better," Russia murmured.

China replied, "Nothing hurts as much."

"Good, cool…"

No one got up right away. When the first few began to shift and whisper, the others were woken one-by-one, yet no one wanted to leave. In stretching, there were long seconds were the cold was allowed to attack the elongated bodies. Immediately after, all that was desired was to curl back up and hug. Only after another hour of wakefulness, did the need to go to the washroom outweigh the want to stay warm.

Individuals peeled away from the aggregation, peppering it with holes that accelerated the decomposition. Russia peeked over as a line shuffled out the door, but he still did not want to leave.

"Are you hungry, Russia?" France sat up and asked him.

"Mmm…" He was, but it was no motivation to raise him.

Britain asked, "Do you want us to get you all something?"

"Yeah…" America began to reply, before lifting his head and shaking it. "No wait. There's something I want to do."

China and Russia slipped off him and knelt. America slowly made it up to his feet, then they followed suit. Russia adjusted his scarf as America took a step forward, but when he attempted his own, Russia inhaled sharply. Large hands from behind instantly found him, hugging him first, then volunteering to support him. Cuba swung his head to one side and told him, "I'm right here."

"Ah…" Russia breathed. "Thank you."

The last of the room made it out. In the hall many split, with the rest of them going toward the cafeteria. Cuba led him wherever was necessary, although Russia was always distraught to lose seconds of his day away from America. Back in the kitchen however, Russia was released to shuffle close to him.

"There's not so much left," America commented as he pulled the fridge door open. Russia dipped his head as he physically tried to avoid viewing the dried blood on the floor and drawers. Nevertheless, looking at the fridge also reminded him of when he had slammed Prussia against it. America smirked in anticipation as he leaned into the fridge, but at this time Russia was only shutting his eyes.

When America turned back to him with a widening grin, he was surprised to find him like this.

"Hey, dude!" he called to receive his attention.

Russia flashed open his eyes for him. He blinked right after until he was able to recognize the onion centered in America's grasp.

America asked, "You think I can eat this whole thing?"

"What? You are crazy. Will you really do this?"

Japan stopped turning over dried cups to glance back to them.

America's eyes shone with an excited and gleeful light. His white smile faced Russia, his cheeks made plump and expression smooth and soft. Almost instinctively, Russia lifted his hands and placed them on either side of his face, feeling the heat and reminded of when America had been unconscious. All actions paused and for a moment Russia enjoyed feeling overly light. His palms held the creases of his smile, and America stayed still until Russia's hands fell back to his sides.

Everything returned to how it just was with America proceeding as though the moment had not even happened. Resuming, he insisted, "Like an apple!"

"No, I don't think you can," Russia said. "It won't taste good."

"Challenge?"

Russia's eyes widened, helpless as America tore off the papery outer layer and tossed it to the floor. The thick bulb of shining purple was revealed and Russia's gasped just before America's head snapped down and his teeth sank in. Juice sprayed over America's face, unseen by the others although the cold drops could not be ignored. He ripped off a mouthful and chewed rapidly, at first believing that the task would be manageable as he eyed up the amount he had removed.

Then the powerful taste slapped him and soaked his tongue. He gagged but pressed his lips tightly together before everything could slip from his mouth. With bugged eyes, America chewed desperately then forced the foul sludge down little-by-little. Russia put the side of his fist against his mouth while Cuba and Japan could only stare. America inhaled in preparation, then took another bite for their benefit.

"America…" Russia breathed in disbelief. He watched his mouth working swiftly, then as America shuddered after the next mouthful. Two more bites disappeared and America began looking queasy, but the determination was so strong in his eyes that Russia could not help but start smiling. He had now started to realize that once America had decided it, he was not going to back down. Bits of the onion only continued to vanish without respite.

"America!" he repeated, laughs breaking out past his hand. America grinned and carried on, raising his fists into the air once the onion was gone. Russia continued to titter, even while America turned and washed his hands and face. When he was cleaned of juice however, America came back closer to him.

"There," America smiled. "I got you to laugh."

Russia rubbed his face and asked, "This was your goal?"

"Yeah, I wanted to hear a good one. Also it's probably good to force a vegetable into me so there's an added bonus."

Japan went back to work with the cups without saying a word. Cuba put his hands over Russia's shoulders, giving him a moment of comforting contact, before he let go and headed to the fridge. America then took over the job of supporting Russia, telling him to let the others serve them. Russia let himself be led to an empty table in the cafeteria, where he was happy to sit across from America to watch him and receive non-hostile glances.

Ukraine and Belarus joined their table, then Canada did as well. They inquired about their health and there were only positive responses to give. Russia sat with his hands lying over each other, until Belarus took them and turned them over, revealing his palms and sliding her fingers into them.

His amused eyes observed how each plush part of his fingers was pressed, each joint curled and straightened, and the stacking game that was played with their hands. There was a scraping as she scooted her chair closer to him, then she lay against his side and he replaced his arm around her. America spied on the affection between the siblings, interested by it and left wondering if they were usually this close or if it was just a recent development.

The food soon came and they separated once they had morsels before them. Ravenous, they said nothing as breakfast became the sole objective. Minutes after however, they became concerned about each other once more.

Canada asked, "What are you guys going to do today?"

Russia looked to America. "Can we play some of the computer games?"

"Oh yeah, sure," he replied, then referred to Canada, "Are you all just going to work?"

"I think so. Everyone but you two are in good enough shape to contribute, so you can relax while we get us out of here."

"What about Germany?" America wondered. "His arm…"

"It's up to him, but I think everyone wants to leave you two alone to settle everything." Canada shrugged lightly. "Make some peace, recover. It'll be good for us all."

"How about we stay downstairs in that room?" America suggested to Russia. "We'll play Tetris and whatever else you want, until they break through."

"I like this idea…" Russia wanted to ask if they could do more than that, but was uncomfortable asking it.

"What is it?"

"Could we also… do what we did before?"

America wrinkled his brows in confusedness. "You gotta be more specific than that."

"Tell stories and…"

"Oh, sure. That's fine."

The others were unsure of what they were talking about, but they did not feel the need for elaboration. Russia and America rose and said their goodbyes, before heading off to the aforementioned room. On the route there, being held so he could walk, Russia wondered if there would be a reaction if he were to hold onto America's upper arm. As Belarus had done to him before, Russia reached up with one hand then across with the other, grasping onto the arm and leaning into it.

In all, he was delighted by the lack of anger or disgust. America must have been aware, but even then he did not harass him. They entered the room and satisfied, Russia let go of him. Together they approached the computer, and the chair Russia was allowed to occupy first.

"We can start with something new," Russia decided.

"I'm good with whatever."

"And I will beat you in everything."

America laughed, "No way."

An entertaining challenge was confirmed, but he slung his arms over his shoulders and crossed them, leaning just as Russia had with him before. More careful now though, America draped everything and tested spots before he set his weight anywhere. Russia swayed and opened a file, pressing his cheek into one of the arms.

It was calm like this for an hour, in where they played short games and avoided chess. It was always informal, always comfortable. Even better, there was no definite winner or loser since they each had their own games they were more skilled at. Russia conquered him once again in all rounds of Tetris, and during one game, Canada rushed in to bring them news.

"We found everyone's coats and keys," he reported. "The door's just a metre or so away."

"What?" Russia lifted his hands of America's shoulders and faced him with widening eyes. "Already?"

"Yes, but we'll stop once we get to the door. We won't leave for a while longer, to give you time."

Russia's eyebrows furrowed and he dropped eye contact. "But I feel bad to make you wait so long…"

"We agreed we would stay. Don't worry about it," Canada replied. "We'll hang around until you are ready."

"Mmm… I don't want to go yet and I feel like I should do something for you. Maybe you would like to have some heat?"

"Well," he said. "It could be dangerous if things were allowed to melt… and besides, it is effective in bringing people together. I think it would do us good if we had to rely on each other for a little longer."

"I am surprised you say this… but I agree," Russia responded. "Cold makes us look for the warmth."

Canada gave him a nod, then departed. America had listened but at no point had he discontinued elevating his Tetris score. Russia returned to him, hugging and waiting for America to reach his own high score again. Two critical misplaced blocks however, then America scrambled to correct his error, only to fail in the attempt.

A soft laugh was emitted from Russia, then he whispered, "Will we do the other thing now?"

"Sure."

Russia stepped back and America emerged from the chair. The computer was turned off, then they dropped down behind the desk to lay on the carpet. It was warmer than the wall would have been and the open space allowed for both to commit cracking stretches. They exhaled and lay still, staring up at the ceiling with their sides touching.

"It is your turn," Russia murmured.

"What're you looking for?" America asked mildly. "Just a story, like a fairytale?"

"Yes."

"You've probably heard my fairytales because they're famous."

Russia imputed, "And not really yours."

"You got me there."

"But I do not care what you chose," Russia insisted. "Anything, America. I just want to listen to you."

"I gotta think of something I can remember though. You had all those lines memorized. I've never had to tell stories before… just read them aloud." He shrugged while lying down. "I guess you'll just get my version of things."

Russia nodded and closed his eyes, waiting. America commenced, introducing him first to what he had chosen.

"Here's what I got: Goldilocks and the Three Bears."

Russia chuckled, but America was quick to counter, "I'm going to change it! Give you a whole new tale."

"How is this?"

"Alright. So, not porridge but KFC."

Russia began to shake with his laughter and pressed into him more. "And they are bears, no? Or did you make them people?"

"Oh no, they're people. I'm going to make this the most American, meme-filled adventure for you. It's decided."

Because the more Russia laughed, the more ridiculous he wanted to go. The gentle sounds of amusement soothed his heart and he wanted to savor them while he could. Russia gave in and fit himself against America, wanting to listen to his heartbeat as America had when he had been the storyteller. America started just as his ear picked up the placid pulse, and Russia smiled and listened to it all.

He trembled with small laughs, but kept quiet in order to not interrupt. America stroked his hair constantly, hardly aware he was doing it at times. Russia grew so relaxed that at the quiet bits where he would only smile, America thought that Russia might have fallen asleep. He would always chuckle and shift eventually though, so America knew it was not the case.

When the story was over, America got them a drink. He settled on the floor and now Russia took his turn to tell him another story. Once again he was lost in his narration, and this time Russia had no need to get emotional about this tale. He was perfectly content now with America, refusing to believe at this moment that this peace could ever end.

Yet the twinge in his heart reminded him, during the silence and time of proximity that followed, that they would have to part ways soon. America was not Russian; he had no home here. Everyone else as well were all waiting upon him to return to their homes. He could hope that their next encounters would be agreeable and that perhaps they would arrange friendly visits, but this situation would not get to happen often.

 _Maybe it is good_ , Russia consoled himself. _It makes it more special. I will not grow tired of this_.

Although he could easily spend the rest of the day here being held so carefully, without growing bored. The only issue was that they were not truly alone, and everyone was waiting. Russia frowned and clutched America a little more tightly at the thought. America asked him what was wrong, but Russia did not answer at first as he wondered what the point of the final day was.

 _They aren't even here with me… what is the reason to reserve an entire day with me then?_

And Russia worried that America also had a secret desire to go home, and was only counting down the hours until he would get to leave the collapsed building.

"Hey," America murmured, since Russia had not loosened his hold. "What are you thinking about?"

"I feel bad now… for making everyone wait."

"Nah, man. They said it's fine."

"But what's the point?" Russia replied. "They aren't here with me. They might as well go."

"They wouldn't leave without us."

"It would be better… We could stay, but because they are not doing anything, they are bored."

America said, "I bet they're playing games. They don't mind giving us time."

"But they don't need to wait, do you understand? They can go. It is meaningless to wait. We won't fight. It will be the same if they are here or not."

"They want to leave _with_ us. All together."

"Hmm…." Russia let out a sigh. "I feel bad for this now. I had good time with you, but maybe one whole day is too much. We should leave and hope to continue this later."

"If we leave now," America warned him, "you might miss out on this for a very long time, or forever."

Russia gave him a light squeeze as his throat tightened. He felt like he could not survive without this in his life, now that he had experienced it- yet he was also under stress, thinking about how he had kept these people here against their will for days. Terrorizing, fighting, and punishing them… He could not bear to give them any further moments of misery. This place was like a prison and he their guard. Russia wanted to be rid of the dreadful feeling that was infecting his joy in cuddling.

"I think I want to go… but I really like this. I am so sad and stressed. I don't know what to do."

"Stay. I…" America exhaled. "I want to have one more day."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Could we at least then… send everyone back. I want them again, to be like last night. We were all happy then when we were together."

"Alright," America agreed. "I'll go upstairs and get them."

One quick hug, then he was off. Russia waited, lying in nervous apprehension and already wondering how he should be positioned when they would come in. Russia sat up, crossing his legs and letting his hands rest limply on his thighs. More time passed then he expected, thus he grew nervous, wondering if something had happened and now they were refusing to see him. The flow of his blood became suddenly a noticed thing, a tingling in his fingertips and heat in his cheeks. Russia had to fight the urge to clutch himself in order to appear collected.

His ears picked up the patter of footsteps. Canada, fit and whole, slipped in quickly as though Russia was in urgent need of a check-up. Russia wondered then what America had said, since Canada dropped down onto his knees in front of him and with concerned tone, asked, "Are you okay?"

"Ah yes, all is okay…" Russia murmured.

Canada collected him into a hug, wrapping him up into free comfort as neatly as spiders with flies. Tucked up into him suddenly, Russia looked off with widened eyes until there was nothing that his being wanted but to relax in the warmth and soft clothes. Through half-lidded eyes, he caught sight of France and Britain entering next, whom Canada then passed him off to.

Russia's body remained loose as France took him with as much care as last night. When Britain approached, Russia's heart picked up as he anxiously hoped that what he wanted was going to happen. There was an inhale of pleased surprise when Britain did come down and hold him.

"There you are," Britain told him. Russia blinked then shut his eyes. Now more than ever, he wanted everyone who had not hugged him, to do so. He might have went up to them and initiated the contact, but it did not sit right with his heart anymore. Not only that, but he needed to know how they truly felt.

After those two, many came into the room as a flock. From them individuals came forward, connecting with Russia by embracing and asking how he was, in pain and emotional state, and what he and America had done thus far. Cuba, China, Belarus, and Ukraine had been expected and appreciated, but Russia emitted a gasp audible by all when Germany grabbed him and pulled him in. Tighter than what would have been predicted, but with a certain softness in the strength.

"We are sorry for being overly harsh to you before…" Germany rumbled. "And… _I'm_ sorry. I caused you a lot of pain. A lot of this was my fault, since I took a knife and just allowed everyone to keep believing it was you."

Russia could not remember how to grow angry anymore, when he was treated with such a rare contact. Countless times, Germany had refused to let him touch him, especially for his greeting kisses. But now, the past did not matter with this glorious now.

Germany's example prompted Italy then Japan forward. It did not even seem that Germany was scrutinizing him when Italy's smaller frame was consumed by Russia's powerful arms. Again Russia's eyes closed as he thought just how much better this was compared to holding Italy's unconsenting, unconscious body.

Russia was equally careful with Japan, who was even smaller and a joy to hold. The word _cute_ bounced around in his head, but he dared not say it when it would not be received well. He was adored regardless, tiny and soft compared to him.

Japan moved away, and Russia heard the start of, "I suppose I should…"

Then Austria committed, falling down and sweeping into him too fast for him to be able to change his mind. Russia's eyebrows shot up, then he placed his hands onto his back. Brief was this hug, but so fulfilling. His gaze that found Austria's back seemed to purr in a silent way, but a contented sound finally escaped him as the affection continued with others.

It seemed that everyone was going to hug him. Hungary, then Prussia, and the final four. After Latvia, the last, he looked sheepish as he dug into his pockets. He sat cross-legged in front of Russia, reaching out his arms and offering the contents of his hands to him.

"I… charged it," Latvia whispered.

Russia cocked his head and took his phone and charger from Latvia's grasp. He pressed his thumb into the power button, allowing it to wake up from its cold slumber. He breathed, "Thank you… for not taking this and using it to disadvantage me."

"Disadvantage?" Latvia's face lit in surprise. "You mean… like reading your messages or emails?"

Russia hummed in affirmation.

"I didn't think of it…" Latvia murmured, blushing since it sounded bad and another time he really would have considered doing it. Or at least, if he had ever come into possession of Russia's phone, he would have nervously passed it off to America.

America plopped down beside Russia, asking, "So there's really nothing in your call log? You didn't ever call for help, even as a backup?"

"I… only made one," Russia replied hesitantly, already instinctively on guard to have America viewing his unlocked phone. "But not for help… just to confirm."

"Your boss?"

Russia did not want to answer. The air felt a tad heavier, but then Belarus glided in beside him and insisted, "Show them your pictures."

"My pictures?" Russia repeated.

"Like the one you took of me with the bread."

"Ah, okay."

Russia quickly tried to remember what he had in his gallery, afraid to reveal any pictures of documents. He recalled however, a stream of nature photos he had taken on a free morning he had had. When he had woken up early and driven out to a forest to get shots of the frosty sunrise.

Cautiously, his gallery was opened up to go straight to the image of him and Belarus, both smiling at the camera. The happiness present there alarmed him. He shot the phone back to his chest and an apology flew from his mouth. The others jolted from his reaction, one of obvious fear for their responses. This image after all, demonstrated him in a good mood just before his plan had been carried out.

A stream of memories hit him of everything horrible he had done in order to try to reach his goal. Everything that he had pardoned for the sake of a better ending. The lies, drugging them, threats, and physical harm. The phone was pressed tighter to his chest, squeezed in his hand. A lump formed in his neck and immediately Russia knew he was on the verge of crying again.

 _No, I can't. Too many times, not again…_

Before it happened however, he felt many hands falling onto him. They had read his mind, and Britain assured him, "Just don't do it again, alright? Not again."

He nodded fervently.

Ukraine shushed him to ease his heart, then said, "You should show them. Let them see how happy and nice you can be."

Russia's nods this time were slower. He extended his arm again and let people crowd in around him to regard the picture. When they gathered in close and he could feel their heat all around him, he grew calm again. He let them look for a minute, then he scrolled to the previous image. It was one of the snow fields and icy roads just in front of this building. Russia felt them relaxing around him, surprised to find such pleasant pictures on his personal phone.

Their reactions enjoyed, he happily showed them the nature photos he had. Pleased sighs rose all around him and always compliments from different sources. He went past all the sunrise and forest photos, then they came across some recent ones of the Moscow River. Since he had shown so many though, Russia paused to inquire, "Are you still interested?"

Until he received an answer, he kept his phone by his hip, screen against his sweater in case continuing to display something would seem too hopeful. America looked down his arm to the phone, murmuring, "They're good pics, dude. It's nice to imagine you taking nice things like this."

A chorus of agreement. Russia smiled lightly and tilted his phone back. America waited expectantly but what his eyes fell upon was a white image with black Cyrillic text. Russia noticed a moment after him and yelped. The phone fell back against him, then Russia scooted away from the large group. He stood with huge eyes as he handled his gallery, trying to get back to a section of nature photos. The blood rushed in his ears and Russia hurried to assure himself that he had not committed any huge error.

 _It accidentally scrolled to it… but no one saw except America. Was I fast enough? How good is his Russian? Was it possible for him to read something that quickly?_

Russia found images of Siberian landscape. He tried to calm down as he returned, every part of him wanting to ask America if he had seen what had been on the document. Yet it would be too easy to lie, so there was no point for the question.

 _He wouldn't use it, would he? Not after today… America couldn't just betray me like that without feeling guilty now_.

"Okay," Russia resumed, swallowing then extending his phone anew. After a few images had passed, Russia knew that America could sense his lingering unease.

"I didn't see anything," America whispered. "It's cool. You were lightning fast about it."

Russia dropped his shoulders. America rested into him and Russia decisively put his arm around him, picking up now a palpable feeling that the end was nearing. Everyone was here, and everything had been done. They were happy… to extend this for hours chanced causing their happiness to fade.

It was just so perfect that it had to end.

So he held onto his oblique and pulled him closer. America was so surprised by the sentiment that he realized in an instant it marked the coming end. He held him back and they stared at the little screen together. Bright rectangles of light were reflected in their eyes, the warm similarity between vastly different people. Between purple and blue.

Eventually, the light disappeared with the click of a button. Russia pocketed his phone with his charger, then turned and hugged America fully.

"Did you know," Russia mumbled, "that I kept your glasses? Canada's too?"

"Oh?"

"Everyone should get their things back… The things I took." Russia frowned. "Unfortunately I didn't save everything and things like phones were lost… I could pay for them."

They did not turn down his offer so he knew that he was expected to. Russia exhaled, then continued holding for just another few splendid seconds. Finally, he donned him a kiss and drew back.

"We can go now," Russia spoke louder. "This will do. Let's go home."

"Really?" Germany called over to him. "Are you sure? We allowed you extra time if you need it."

"I do not need it," Russia decided. "This is the best time to leave. We are the happiest we will be."

Russia glanced back and noticed their excitement. At first, he felt a tweak of pain, but then realized that he was eager to go home himself. A few flashes went by in his mind, of his toothbrush, shower, dresser, and a stuffed plate of unspecific hot food. They must long for these things as he did.

"Al-alright…" Lithuania said, quivering as he stood up, as though he was hearing wrong and would soon be corrected. "Let's…"

"Y-yeah," Estonia agreed, also shaky because he could not believe they were leaving so soon. "Home…"

The final word was repeated by a few in whispers.

" _Home_ …"

" _Home_ …"

" _Ah… I want to go home_ …"

All scattered shoes were gathered and slipped on. Then, Russia got up and promptly the rest rose at once. He took a step toward the door; they did as well. China weaved around and snuck around his arm, presenting himself as a support, while America automatically decided to be the one on his left side. Russia moved slowly forward, careful with his injuries, and a little worried over how he slowed everyone down.

They proceeded up the stairs, moving past the remaining rubble there. On the ground floor, Russia flashed his eyes up to a hall camera, then to the door he had broken. The washroom was given a glance as well, and Russia imagined the mirror inside, ruined, never to be used again. Ghosts of their past selves even began to waltz through the hall before him, blurring his sight upon the cleared exit. He saw many poor, frightened forms at work, and the vicious faces of rebels.

Then quite suddenly, Russia found himself facing the door. He could not remember how it had felt when he had opened it, checking for the arrival of guests.

 _Guests… I forgot about that word_.

Russia spotted the pile of coats and keys. He stepped back, beckoning for them to collect their belongings.

"Oh!" And Russia turned to America, remembering again. "Your-"

"We have everything here," Canada told him.

America bent down and took his phone and glasses. Everything on the floor went to its original owners, then Russia looked back to the door while pocketing his keys.

"It is there," Russia said. "We are free to go."

He did not want to be the first. Swiftly though, the others fell into a line before him in their excitement to leave. Poland strained to push it open, but then China marched up and took over his place.

"Stand back, everybody!" he cried, before launching a kick at the door. The door cracked and snapped out a bit, and a strip of white became visible. After a determined cry and second kick, the door shoved through the snow and China launched at what remained. He dug and the rest followed, burrowing through until collapses and whatever was shoved aside allowed for a tunnel. With keys clutched, they burst out one-by-one into the flat ground untouched by snow, with whoops and spins as they took in the open air around them.

Canada hopped out after Cuba, then all who remained were America and Russia. The latter was led out by the wrist, given barely enough time to flick off a switch on the way. Then, both inhaled deeply and filled themselves with the sharp, cold air of the outside world. A breeze rushed over them and they faced it contently, enjoying how it ruffled their hair. America released him and turned, adjusting his glasses then observing the building they had left.

"Oh shit…" he breathed.

And the others had already started noticing the wreckage. Gasps and shocked comments escaped them, but Russia did not want to look. His eyes locked on his car and he felt for the metal teeth of his keys. Right away the instinct to abandon the site of his cruel plan drove him forward. He wanted to escape the building and forget about the horrors he had committed. Despite the pain, he hastened along while everyone was distracted.

His movements were heard; America turned and caught hold of him. The grip softened and America murmured, "Come on... at least say goodbye first."

Avoiding the building, Russia only set his eyes on the people. With slow movements, he moved in and hugged America, very softly at first. Once established however, the hug tightened by degrees. He needed to be sure he was there.

"I will miss being your friend," Russia sighed.

America replied, "You know… It isn't sure. I _might_ be allowed. We'll see."

"You won't be." Russia retreated carefully. "I know it. After you tell your boss what happened… And when everything goes back to normal."

"We'll see," America repeated gently.

"Goodbye, America."

Russia noticed a mournful shine to America's eyes, under his worried, furrowing brows.

"Yeah… See you, Russia…"

Near the end of their interaction, had the others begun to notice them. Russia broke away and soon was walking on a beeline to his vehicle. They called their farewells to him, so he paused to turn and smile back. He threw back a goodbye to all, never raising his eyes to scan the damage of the building. Then, he climbed into his car and relaxed when it started successfully, roaring to life and flooding the interior with warmth.

Russia thought back to all the comforts of home. He pulled out, then headed for the road. It would not be long until all these sights would be behind him. The smile found his face again, and he set the radio to a channel playing a song he liked well. He did not have enough energy to move to the beats however, but he hummed as the car accelerated further.

In the mirror, he saw the other cars following. He could not see them all, but it appeared that Belarus was as content as he was. In truth, they were all doing the same thing: listening to music, smiling, and thinking about what was awaiting them at home.

Together as well, they hoped. For it was the last thing available for them to do. Every one of them looked forward to the future after their return to home, wishing that life could be like it was in those final hours in the crumpled building.


	18. Emails

0

* * *

1 February

(no subject)

 _to America_

Good day America,

It has been a while, hasn't it? I wanted to know how it was going… You must have already told him, but why did you not tell me how it went? Even if it is only bad news, I want to hear it. I cannot wait until the next meeting for information.

Are you angry? If you are angry please be honest with me. I am waiting for your response.

-Russia

* * *

4 February

(no subject)

 _to America_

Hello America,

It has been a few days and I am wondering if you got my last email. Maybe you accidentally deleted it? Anyway, I wanted to know what is going on at your home. Is everything okay? How did your boss take the news? I was wondering if you could tell me what he said and if he is angry with me.

I do not mind if he is. I just do not like not knowing. Is no news good news? Please respond whenever you are not busy.

-Russia

* * *

11 February

(Response Please)

 _to America_

America,

It has been more than a week since my first message. I have the feeling you are ignoring me. Why are you doing this? Send a response back to me.

-Russia

* * *

17 February

(Why)

 _to America_

Why aren't you answering your calls? I know this is your number. Your new one. I got it from Lithuania.

Maybe you're switching all your contacts to avoid me. This is getting very irritating for me. Why is it so hard to just talk to me? You might not see this email so if you don't respond to me in the next three days I am going to find another way to get to you.

* * *

21 February

(What is happening?)

 _to Canada_

Hello Canada,

I was wondering if America was feeling okay. Has he been sick?

Warmest regards,

Russia

* * *

23:59 (13 hours ago)

(What is happening?)

 _to me_

Greetings Russia,

I haven't heard anything like that. What makes you think that?

-Canada

* * *

0:31 (13 hours ago)

(What is happening?)

 _to Canada_

Hi Canada,

America will not answer any of my emails or calls. I was trying to ask how he was because we have not talked since January. I think he is ignoring me.

Thank you for replying,

Russia

* * *

5:01 (8 hours ago)

(What is happening?)

 _to me_

Hey again,

I thought you would have talked already…? I am surprised. Okay, don't worry. I'll drop in and see what is going on then I will get back to you.

Take care,

Canada

* * *

7:15 (6 hours ago)

(What is happening?)

 _to Canada_

Thank you,

I am happy you are going to help me ))) I really don't know why he is doing this to me.

Hoping for your response,

Russia

* * *

11:15 (2 hours ago)

(What is happening?)

 _to Canada_

Did you see him yet?

* * *

13:02 (1 minute ago)

(What is happening?)

 _to me_

Stop trying to contact him. He isn't supposed to talk to you and now I might get in trouble for telling you this…

* * *

13:03 (0 minutes ago)

(What is happening?)

 _to Canada_

Why?

* * *

0


	19. The Visit

A response never came to Russia's question. Burning with frustration and sorrow, he wondered why America could not contact him but the others could. Russia had already touched base with them at different times, finding out that he was despised by their bosses but that none of them had any plans yet to deal with him. That was reassuring, since it could mean that each of them had defended him enough that he would not be punished.

 _Did America betray me?_ Russia leaned back into his chair, the solitary white glow of the screen over his face. _Did he change his mind and now wants nothing to do with me?_

He tucked his arms in, elbows pressing harder into his gut the more doleful the thoughts became. The cozy cloth around his heart was being hooked away once more, that feeling of being loved, lost. No matter how he had told himself before that it would happen, now that the time had come, Russia could not accept it.

 _I don't want to lose everything. I want what happened to mean something…_

But perhaps it did. Russia's arms dropped and he raised his head as a more hopeful thought arrived to him.

"Oh but, maybe he does not hate me," he mused. "Maybe America wants to talk to me but he is just _really_ not allowed to. He might still care about me."

A smile appeared and now he was gentler with himself, stroking his hands down his arms.

"Yes, I will see when I talk to him in person. In his voice, I can find the answer." Russia's smile broadened. "He also cannot ignore me when we are talking directly."

He abandoned his computer with a determined expression and posture. As swiftly as he could, he got ready and departed his house. His cell phone was left behind as America's new and old number revolved in his mind on ribbons of tape. Russia transported himself to the nearest payphone he could remember in the city, then he punched in the new number first.

Russia hoped that he would pick it up at least, when it was not Russia's recognizable number. His heart pattered with the continued ringing, but after a click and rustle was heard, he inhaled and felt blood rushing to his face.

"Hey," America's yawn came to him.

"America!" Russia gasped. "Oh good, I was wanting to-"

Click.

America disappeared in an instant and Russia was left with his hopeful expression frozen on his face and the phone still pressed against his ear. Instinctively, he tried again only to get no answer. The rings continued until his heavy hand dropped the phone back onto the receiver. Russia did not try a third time as he understood with pained difficulty that it was a futile effort to try to contact him.

 _But how long do we have to go on like this?_ Russia's gaze tumbled to the pavement. _There will be another meeting eventually… We will see each other face-to-face then. Why have this period of time separated? Is this a punishment for me? Or is it because they are figuring out if anything should be done to me?_

Russia treaded away from the machine and subconsciously adjusted his scarf, pulling it up a bit to conceal the lower part of his face. His chin and mouth touched the softness and he exhaled slowly to savor the comforting feeling. More and more, he was learning to relish having gentle things on his skin. He felt light and instantly eased on each occasion, but it still could not compare to human contact. This, and a setting in blankets would be ideal, but he was alone in an empty house- a nearly friendless life, so there would be nothing for him.

Russia returned home to the habitual silence, but this time paused in the entrance hall to check his surroundings. There was no reason to do this, but he did anyway as though something would be different, something that would bring a break to this uniform life of disquiet. Yet as there was nothing, he marched off to the shower.

It was early in the afternoon yet he felt that his day was done, since he had no motivation to work on anything critical today. He shed his layers and felt more relaxed as the weight upon his frame disappeared. When the familiar squeak of the shower turning on came, he sighed, then regarded the water cascading downwards. He tested it and once it was determined hot, he slipped in and enclosed himself behind the curtains in this comforting shelter.

The heat relaxed his rigid muscles and Russia spent a lot of time washing his skin and hair to make sure the sweet scents rubbed in. Once out from the streamy bathroom however, a shock of cold clutched his body and he hurried to his bedroom. Already mostly dried, he threw on fresh briefs then dove onto his bed as so.

His comforter was thrown over him just before the body pillow was approached. Russia moved towards it slowly as though it could be startled, caressed it, then placed his arms around it. As always, it was gently brought closer to him. One leg went over but only so much, and his head tucked itself neatly over the top of the pillow.

Russia felt his body warming back up and he was aware of his own warmth being absorbed by the body pillow at the same time. It led him to pine for what was lacking, and for him to think, _If only I could share it with someone._

All his warmth stayed with himself and the strokes he gave the side of the pillow would not reach anybody. Neither would the nuzzles nor the whispered words of affection that he rehearsed perchance he might get to murmur them to a living person. But these actions gave him a small sense of comfort regardless, so he did it, always pretending that it was someone in his arms without any specific identity.

Russia usually spent an hour here before he went on. When this hour passed, he rose and directed himself to his closet. He dressed himself in track pants and a hoodie in order to retain the feeling of softness, then he wound his scarf back around his throat. Once ready to depart, he took one of the small pillows from his bed and carried it with him out of the room.

Russia found his computer and immediately sat before it to check for any messages. The pillow fell into his lap so his arms folded around it and squeezed slightly. He reloaded the page and found a new email marked important: one from his boss. Russia released a sigh and opened it, his gaze growing dull as he read over the details of his next assignment. There would be no relaxing so soon. With a groan, he shook himself to summon up some energy, then hugged the pillow tightly once to last him for a while.

A drink of water was first fetched, then he began his task. Russia pushed America to the back of his mind for a time and did not even think of any of the others when it was necessary that he focus. After a considerable amount had been done however, he took a pause just to hold the pillow and stick his face into it.

 _I don't want to be alone… I am so tired of being alone._

Russia's eyes shifted over as he wondered what would happen if he were to just drop by someone's home. Although no one had told him that he could not visit, he had the strong impression that he was not supposed to see them. Regardless, he could use that excuse.

 _If I didn't know, I can't get in any trouble, right? Especially if I show I am not dangerous._ Russia tilted his head further down to press his nose into the pillow. _All I want to do is a friendly visit…_

From this position, he raised his eyes and regarded the work he had done on the screen.

 _If it can be done fast… I would have time. I could leave before I get anything else, then say I am only taking a short trip. I don't have to be far just in case my boss wants me back. One of the Baltics would be good._

Russia smiled and turned his head. He thought about which one he should visit but it became a difficult decision when he remembered the hugs each of them had given him last month. All of them, he wanted to catch up with and hug again.

"Maybe I should just see them all," Russia sighed. "Take the train, go to each of them. Lithuania is close… I can go up from there. Hmm, I wonder if I could see Finland too? I am curious about what he thinks of me now… But maybe not. It might not go well and this is a lot of time."

His head popped up and a look of determination was shot at the computer.

"Yes, I will get this done then go see Lithuania!"

The pillow rolled off his lap as he shifted the chair closer and spread his fingers over the keyboard. Now that he had a goal, he could power through this assignment without growing easily exhausted. Russia returned the completed work, then burst from the chair, gathering the pillow and hustling away. With eager movements, he tossed the essentials into a suitcase he had opened on the floor. Clothes, toiletries, and his laptop were thrown in, then some snacks and two books for entertainment. His phone, keys, passport, and wallet he kept on his person, but after this he could not think of anything else that would be required.

"This is exciting!" he declared to himself, then hummed a song suddenly there after. The suitcase was zipped up, then he skipped down the hall with it while bearing bright eyes. Everything in the house that needed to be tended to was, then he merrily locked the door and trotted to his car.

As he slipped the suitcase into the trunk, he purred, "I have not seen them in so long! I cannot wait. I should do something. Maybe I should buy presents to give to them all."

His smile stayed with him for so long that after a while in the car, his face began to ache. Eventually Russia gave in and relaxed it, opting to just hum and sway to the radio songs. Once he had reached the train station and parked his car, this ended and he was forced to dance in his mind while keeping a serious demeanor walking along. Regular business was conducted and he tried not to reveal his excitement to the public, but once he had sat down to wait for the next train, there was an anxious twitching in his legs.

Russia dragged one of the books out from his suitcase. It was opened to the beginning, where he immersed himself into the first part of it. Many pages were flipped until the estimated time of arrival for his train approached. Russia packed away the book and waited for the next ten minutes until the train rolled to a stop alongside the platform.

Once seated through, the dreaded wait continued. He decided he would try to pass most of the time sleeping, although he became startled when he remembered the train would first take them through Minsk before going back up to Vilnius.

 _Should I visit Belarus too?_ he mused. He thought that if he did, he would have to visit Ukraine as well for equality's sake. Otherwise, Belarus would certainly mention it and Ukraine might believe he wanted more tensions between them. Yet to go down to Ukraine then back to the Baltics would take too much time and money. It was a decision between his sisters or the Baltics.

 _Ah… Times with my sisters has been strange recently. But with the Baltics, I need to make sure they don't regain their fear and hatred of me. This was also the first thing I decided, so I should do what I said._

Russia read deep into his book before it began to tire him. He snacked then fell into a slumber with his belongings tightly pressed to himself. He would wake, look out the window, then read, and he repeated the process right until he arrived in the country of Lithuania. Once there, he directed himself to find food for himself as the city came to life in the aging morning. Then in a washroom, he brushed his teeth and washed his face in order to feel fresh when he explored the city on the hunt for a pastry shop.

When one was found, he tranquilly glided inside with his suitcase in tow. Russia smiled at the cakes, cookies, and other assorted sweets lying out on displays while the warm scent of fresh goods wrapped around his face. After a long conflict over what to get, he settled on buying a mini cake they could share and also some soft cookies. He decided firmly that he would refrain from eating anything until he would arrive at Lithuania's house, and he hurried to get himself into a taxi so that everything would be in good quality for them.

 _So expensive this is!_ he thought. _To do this with each of them… It will be worth it though. They will remember I am their friend now._

His heart leapt then pounded once he caught sight of his destination. Russia climbed out after paying and dragged his suitcase up to the door while bearing the plastic bag of goodies around his arm. A large inhale was sucked in before he eagerly tapped at the wood three times. Then, he waited with an excited expression while focusing in on the lines in the wood of the door. There was movement behind it, the pause in front when the peephole was looked through, before the lock was heard being turned.

The door swung in and immediately Lithuania gasped softly, "Russia, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just really wanted to see you," Russia purred as his eyes fell shut. "This is all."

"Erm, Russia… You should have called."

"But why is this?" His tranquil eyes snapped open into a sharper gaze. "I do not believe anyone else has to do this when they visit you."

Lithuania paused and his face wrinkled slightly as he became troubled. Russia began to frown, but then he raised the bag so that it came up between them. Lithuania's attention was grabbed and as he stared downwards, his curiosity overcame him.

"What is this?" Lithuania asked.

Russia replied, "I bought you a present. I am hoping you will like it."

"You…"

"I wanted to visit you. Nothing serious. This is not for work, I promise."

Lithuania looked to the sides then back to Russia. He sighed when he observed the shine of a plea in his eyes, for Lithuania realized just how far he had come and how hard a rejection would hit if Russia were to be given one now. One foot falling behind the other, he backed inside and cleared the doorway, letting out the murmur, "Alright, you can come in."

Russia perked, regaining his enthusiasm then padding into the space that had been made for him. Once inside with Lithuania tapping the door closed behind him, Russia immediately broke into chatty cheer. He took off his shoes and chirped, "I am happy to be here! It has been too long since I have seen anybody. No one has been visiting, you know. No one calls so I have to…"

Then he trailed off as he considered Lithuania again.

"Why didn't you do any of these things?" Their eyes caught and held each other's gazes, hardly blinking. "I thought you would care about me."

"Er, Russia… It's only been a month." After only a stutter, his speech became smoother. "Sometimes people go through periods like that… I might have called or visited sometime soon."

"But it was a month after something very important happened." Russia took a step forward as Lithuania turned his face in discomfort. "You should have made sure I was okay, right? Shouldn't friends do this?"

Lithuania stepped back to give himself some room, then he cleared his throat while tugging on his collar. "I thought we knew… that it could not last."

"Why not?" Russia did not demand this, but the question cut the air curtly.

"Why not…" Lithuania did not know what to say. He was beginning to grow nervous to see Russia becoming upset in his house. Lithuania glanced past him towards the door and wondered if there was any way for him to convince Russia to go back out through it. For a moment, he even considered attempting to force him.

But then Russia shook his head and sighed, "No… let's be friendly. I don't want to have this."

Russia moved closer and extended the bag out to him. Lithuania took it, cleared his throat, then pried it open to look at the small, clear bag of cookies and the box that lay on the bottom. The fresh scented drifted up to him, calming his nerves as Russia stayed silent. Finally, Lithuania whispered, "Okay… so what were you wanting to do?"

"I would like to spend the day with you doing fun things."

"Like… what?"

"You do not know what is fun for you?"

Lithuania said, "Well… First I have some things to do this morning. After, I guess we could… I don't know."

"See a movie?" Russia's mood jumped, knowing that an acceptance had already been made.

"Sure… Just, relax for now? I can make you tea if you will give me a few hours." Lithuania shrugged, letting his nerves relax now that Russia was calm.

"Yes, yes. I brought books with me and computer. I will just be happy in your presence." Russia deposited his suitcase by the shoes for now, before adding merrily, "But first, I think this friend I have not seen for a while needs a proper greeting!"

Russia smiled then moved in quickly, giving Lithuania barely enough time to drop the bag to the side. His hands were about to move up out of instinct, but they got caught on the abdomen that was now there. Russia's arms wrapped around and pulled back toward his own body, sweeping Lithuania closer. He fell into Russia's lowered face, felt the curves of his lips against his own, then yanked back with a cry.

"What? What?" Russia blinked quickly.

"What on Earth are you doing!"

"What do you mean? This is greeting. You know it… Why are you angry with me?"

Lithuania pulled back but Russia's arms did not unlock. He pushed against his chest and turned away his face, gasping, "An old one! Why would you use it now?"

Russia's eyebrows wrinkled. "I don't know... but I did not intend for a Socialist meaning. I only meant to be friendly. It's okay."

Lithuania struggled, curving his back as he tried to break out of the arms that did not seem to notice his fight. "Let go!" he yowled. "Now!"

Russia hesitated. "I don't understand…" Hurt inflicted his gaze. "Why do you hate me again?"

Now Lithuania was growing scared. He was fighting as hard as he could now to escape him, but Russia held on tight with limbs like immovable stone. Heart sent into a fluttering panic, Lithuania felt how it was getting hard to breathe.

"Stop! Let go- let go of me!"

An inhale and the grip loosened. "Sorry, sorry…" Russia whispered. "But-"

Instantly Lithuania wormed his way out, taking a few steps back while fixing Russia with a frightened stare. He patted his body as though checking for broken and jutting pieces, resulting in fear being sparked into Russia's heart. He apologized again, throat starting to ache as Lithuania put more distance between them.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Russia whispered again. "I didn't want you to leave me is all… I haven't held someone in a while. I just remembered how nice it feels."

But the panic remained on Lithuania's visage.

"So you didn't change." His voice shook. "After what we did for you, you just went back to how you were before."

"No…" Russia's scrunched his shoulders inwards. "I won't do it again. I didn't want you to leave me again and… Please come back. I will be very careful not to hurt you."

"I don't want you to touch me." Lithuania stroked the long hair hanging loose on the right side of his face. "Don't…. Come any closer."

"Okay, I will not."

Russia froze, regarding Lithuania as he fidgeted and looked around him for something to aid the situation. When he gave up and looked back at Russia, Russia allowed him some time to analyze his sorrowful expression.

"Lithuania… I wanted to visit you," he tried. "I did not want to scare you."

There settled a momentary silence. Neither of them could look at each other so they only glanced around the room.

"I would like to hug you," Russia continued as softly as he could. "Can we do this?"

"No."

"Gentle hug."

"No…"

Now Russia felt his heart pulling, each half stretching in opposite directions. He faltered, feeling the weight of what he had done, and he bent from the load of regret. In a sudden arc, his head swung up with a pained exclamation escaping him.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this! I wanted to show you how nice I can be to you. I didn't mean to do anything. Please give me another chance, I will be good now!"

"Another chance…" Lithuania repeated. He paused as he remembered his previous contact with Russia, a hug that had been soft and pleasant. Wondering if Russia would revert back to this, he crept forward cautiously without looking away from him. "You have to be careful," he warned him. "You are strong and… you can't use it to get what you want."

"I understand. It isn't fun to be hated, so I will do this."

Russia spread his arms and Lithuania slowly walked into him. His arms lifted and draped around Russia's hips, and he cringed for the moment of expectation, before Russia carefully held him without applying any pulling force. Lithuania exhaled and relaxed, relieved that Russia was no longer forcing him. The recent and better memories flooded his mind and he thought now that it had been good to dare to trust him.

Russia concentrated on not restraining him, making sure that Lithuania could walk backwards out of his arms at any time. His fingers grazed his back, partly to calm him, partly because it left rapturous shivers in Russia's back. He could hear and feel Lithuania breathing, and he was so warm. Here was such life that was utterly unlike a pillow. After going so long without hardly touching a person, Russia was thrown into a dreamlike state at this moment.

"Ah…" Russia turned his face and set his cheek against his hair. "You see…"

He could smell his shampoo and deodorant, which were different from the ones he used. The bumps and grooves were unique and the hair was another texture from his own. It was all so extraordinary to him that time slipped away slower for him than for Lithuania. The other began wondering how long this would go on for, but Russia had no intention of leaving.

Lithuania dropped his arms eventually but Russia did not get the hint. He knew he could leave, but he imagined how hurt Russia might be if he did, offended and questioning him again on his actions. Russia stroked the back of his arms and instead of ending the embrace, extended it by coming closer. One of his legs slid into the gap between his and then Lithuania detected a pulling against his back. Gradually growing stronger, until Lithuania murmured nervously, "Russia… Can I see what is in the box you got me?"

"Mm-hmm…" His cheek turned against his forehead. "It's something for us to share."

But he did not let go of him.

"Russia…" Lithuania put his hands up against Russia and pushed slightly, also trying to step back from his leg.

He did not seem to hear him. Lithuania pushed a little harder, repeating his name. Without a word, Russia broke his grip and allowed Lithuania to slip free. The Baltic stood back but decided not to say anything this time to upset him, since he had not been hurt on this occasion. Still cautious however, he proceeded on by gathering the bag.

Russia followed him closely to the table, as though pursuing his scent. Lithuania set the bag down then pulled out the two items, trying not to show on his face how uncomfortable he was that Russia was lingering so close to him. As he handled the box however, Russia's hand fell onto his lower back and began rubbing a circle there. The cake was exposed but Lithuania could hardly see it with what Russia was doing.

He was about to tell him to stop touching him, but his mouth froze halfway open. _Would that be overly harsh?_ he wondered. _He might have just been lonely… but I don't want to be quiet if it's more than that._

"Do you want to try it now?" Russia smiled by his ear. "While it is fresh?"

"S-sure…"

Lithuania slipped away to get two plates and two sets of utensils. Russia trailed him now into the kitchen with a smile Lithuania noticed would not drop. Unease crawled up his spine, slinking over each vertebrae. After accumulating in his shoulders, a massive twitch was given on his way back to the table. Despite it, Russia put his arm around him and stroked his side this time. When his fingertips touched his lower ribs, he automatically squirmed and could not hold back from protesting.

"I did not say you could continue touching me," Lithuania murmured. "Stop it… please."

Russia did, but frowned. He dipped his head and whispered, "I don't understand why not… If Latvia or Estonia did this, I don't think you would care so much."

"No, because I would wonder too why they wanted to touch me," Lithuania replied steadily. "It depends on if they are sad and need comfort. If not, it would be odd. Most people don't do what you do."

"But I _am_ sad." Russia leaned as close as he could without touching him, regarding Lithuania's face which was focused down on the table. "I would like some of the comfort you spoke of just now."

"We gave you some," Lithuania exhaled. "I think… That no matter what, you will always want more."

"That is because our relationships have not improved."

Lithuania's forehead wrinkled in disbelief. "So if we were friends, are you really thinking that you would stop this?"

"Being nice to you?"

Lithuania did not want to say it, but he murmured, "Controlling people."

Russia protested, "How am I doing this? I only want to do nice things but you guys can be so mean. And when I ask why you treat me so, you don't want me to ask it."

"I can feel it," Lithuania sighed. "Even when you are gentle, you won't let go. You don't ask for consent and you hold in a possessive way. You… You change moods so fast over what people say and it frightens them. You also come too close to us..." And with that, he stepped a bit to the side to reclaim his personal space. "And I thought that it would be different. You were alright back in that situation, but now it is like you have forgotten everything..."

His heart pounded and Lithuania's face felt hot as he stared back at Russia, fearfully waiting for his reaction. He usually did not opt to saying his feelings so directly to Russia, especially when alone with him, but Lithuania was so upset over the change. He had believed that his future with Russia would have been brighter but now it did not appear possible.

Russia watched him for a few seconds, his face difficult to read. Lithuania panted, "I did not want this to happen, Russia! You are abusing your power while pretending to be nice. You might think you are even being nice, but it is selfish! Are you even thinking about us? Or did you just buy all this to impress me, to make me think you were a caring person?"

Another pause as Russia thought of how to respond. Then, he spoke.

"I really want you to enjoy these things." Again, Russia thought that now would have been a good time to touch him, but he restrained himself. "I want them to taste good for you. And I want you to be happy when you are around me."

"I don't know what to do for you…" Lithuania shook his head. "And I don't like being up front with you but… I don't want to be controlled anymore. I am independent."

Russia leaned forward, reconsidered that closeness, then leaned back again.

"I know… Lith… Dear _Lietuva_ , I do not want to own you again. I want to be your friend…" Russia looked back to him and was gladdened to see the interest aroused in Lithuania after he had said his native name. "If you are concerned about all the affection I am giving you, try to know that this is not only for you. Maybe this is really why you are upset? I do love you, _Lietuva_ , but not in the carnal way. For no one I feel that."

"Then why did you choose to come here?" Lithuania did seem to relax a smidge but he still gave him a wary side gaze.

"I was going to see the Baltics," Russia assured him. "You were the closest."

"Okay…" And he grew even more calm. "That is actually such the relief to hear."

"And _Lietuva_ , I have been speaking English to you because I was considering your feelings. I am learning, I am… But I have been alone and no one wants to talk to me. It is hard to remember without practice, but I am trying."

"Alright," Lithuania breathed. "Then… I should be apologizing. I am sorry, Russia, for not understanding."

"If you understand now, can I touch you?" Russia asked.

Lithuania regarded the cake and nodded. Russia smiled, but Lithuania was no longer afraid of that smile for he believed now it was only genuine happiness. Russia touched his back again and moved in close. Lithuania tried not to be uncomfortable, but he found that he still was and only stayed quiet about it.

Remembering what he could since he knew Lithuania loved his own language, Russia murmured, " _Aš tave myliu_."

Lithuania felt the hot blush of discomfort on his face. Just after their talk, Russia decided to say this. Lithuania mentally groaned and thought, _Why did he tell me that he loves me? I don't know what to believe from him anymore!_

The only response he could think of was to hum back then indicate the cake. "Shall we then?"

Russia's smile fell, but he nodded. Lithuania only saw the movement in his peripheral vision before he began to cut through the perfectly thawed cake. Russia was served first, then Lithuania gave a slice to himself. They both eased themselves into adjacent chairs, then at the same time they tasted their portions.

"Oh wow," Lithuania conceded. "How much was this?"

"I wanted the best for you," Russia replied. "I had to make sure it was good."

 _So much effort for me…_ Lithuania thought, pulling his lip to the side to where Russia could not see it. _So strange, his words then his actions. Was he being completely honest to me?_

"You didn't have to," he told Russia. "If you had really wanted to give me something, the cookies would have been plenty."

"But I wanted to give you something special," Russia said, then repeated, " _Aš tave myliu_."

Again, Lithuania tingled from the awkwardness. He only said back, "Thank you… for the food."

"You are very welcome." Russia smiled back at him.

When they were finished, Russia followed him again to the kitchen. Lithuania worked rigidly to equip Russia with tea and snacks, then sent him to the couch. Before seating himself however, Russia needed to collect a book from his suitcase to entertain himself. Lithuania began to inch away at that point, glancing back only once before scuttling away to the solitude of his work area.

The only thought he could hold about Russia right now rang through his mind as he left.

 _He's so creepy…_

* * *

Lithuania had checked up on Russia occasionally, only to find him always reading. He boiled more water to give Russia some fresh tea, but as he delivered it he noticed the roman script on the front of his book.

"Oh, are you reading English?" Lithuania asked out of surprise.

"Ah yes. I wanted to practice more, and with reading, I find new words and phrases."

"What do you have?"

Russia blushed slightly, excited that he was curious but embarrassed to show the cover. After a pause, he turned up the book towards Lithuania's face so he could see the title.

"Ah, a collection of Shakespeare's plays?"

Russia nodded.

"Oh wow…"

"It is difficult to read," Russia murmured. "But that is why I am trying. There are many new words in here and also trying to understand is good workout for the brain."

 _But why does he want to study English so much?_ Lithuania could only wonder. _I think it is for America's sake…_

"That's nice," was all Lithuania could think of to reply.

And Lithuania departed again. When he returned however, it was for the last time. They cleared the coffee table of its empty dishes then Russia wandered over to his suitcase. He put away his book and stowed everything except for his wallet in as well, before eating a small lunch with Lithuania. It was a simple meal of bread, sausage, and fruit, but the closeness and tranquil atmosphere with Lithuania pleased Russia greatly.

He made sure to thank him and hug him quickly in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to him, Lithuania was looking away and feeling even more uncomfortable since the silence of the meal. Once let go of however, Lithuania proceeded to say, "We can look up some movie times together... See what is out."

"Yes, let us do that."

Lithuania fetched his laptop and sat on the couch with it, internally wincing as Russia slid up against him to look at the screen with him. Their eyes flickered with the scrolling of the page, until Russia exclaimed, "What do you think about this one?"

He pointed at a title and Lithuania moved the arrow up to it to clarify.

"That?"

"Mmm, maybe!"

"Yeah, I think it is good."

His response was honest enough. Lithuania had had an interest in seeing the film, but never would he have imagined going with Russia. Regardless, they got ready then set off to the theatre, where Russia insisted on buying the tickets, popcorn, and drinks. Lithuania's eyes widened at these offers but he accepted, pocketing his wallet and cocking his head at Russia.

 _Why is he being so kind… Is this to impress me, or is it something else that I should be worried about?_

Lithuania thought ahead to how they would sit together at the theatre. Going with just one person was suspicious, but Lithuania wanted to judge solely upon how Russia would try to sit with him.

 _Definitely, I will not let him touch me in public_ , he thought. _People will think things_.

Fortunately for him, Russia must have realized this. He kept to the restraints of the arms of his seat, not even needing to pass anything to Lithuania when they had their own small bags of popcorn. So surprised by this, at times Lithuania would flash his eyes to the side just to see how he was enjoying this experience. Well it seemed, for his open eyes did not turn away from the screen, but always reflected the action over their surface as he remained absolutely silent.

Lithuania's attention was snagged every time Russia's hands made any movements, sudden or slow. He dreaded that one arm would creep around his shoulders, although one never went anywhere except to dig into popcorn or to find his beverage. Once the movie was finished, Lithuania slipped away down the aisle but down the steps, Russia caught up to him, bouncing down while smiling and asking, "You liked it, yes?"

"Yeah, it was good," he admitted.

"I want to do this more often. Doing normal things is so relaxing."

Lithuania agreed before they performed the usual ritual of moviegoers after a film: the washroom. Just as Lithuania was taking a moment in the mirror to brush his hair though, Russia slid around him and washed his hands in the adjacent sink. When Russia was not looking, he watched him, but when he looked up, he glanced away. Lithuania blinked in astonishment when drops of water splashed his face as Russia flicked his wet fingers at him, and he turned to catch his smile just as Russia walked away.

 _Weird… Was that him trying to be playful?_ With only the brush of the back of his hand, the water was dried off. Lithuania went after him when he departed, shouldering his small bag and following Russia back to the car.

As they traversed the parking lot, Russia asked, "What should we have for dinner?"

"I don't know..." Lithuania peeked over at him, wondering where this was going.

"I will cook for you," Russia insisted.

"That is too much." Lithuania's eyes widened. "You don't have to do this."

"Then we can go out?"

Lithuania imagined himself slapping his own forehead. _I dug my own grave!_

"Sure, we can get take-out…" he tried.

" _Ne_ , _Lietuva_! Something more special. We have not seen each other in a long time and even the last time was not so good."

 _Going out to dinner alone with Russia… This is definitely suspicious if the movie wasn't enough._

"You can pick the restaurant and I will pay!" Russia proclaimed, for despite all the money he had been paying recently, he was having fun treating another person.

Lithuania reconsidered the offer. _He_ knew that it meant nothing was happening between them, and no matter what he could get a large meal for free. In the end he agreed, and Russia, full of smiles, wanted to freshen up and change into more formal clothes back at his house first. Lithuania wondered if this was all part of a plan, since Russia had brought fancy clothes with him. Decided though, Lithuania changed as well and they both departed in suits.

There was a rush at this time, so Lithuania soon came to realize that the slow service meant more time out with Russia. Once they were finally seated, he was instantly ill at ease to be with Russia at a table for two. Lithuania tried to assure himself that they looked to the others as though they were only having a business talk, but he partially hid himself behind the menu on the search for a decently priced dish.

When Russia addressed him, he was forced to lower it.

"If you would like alcohol, go ahead and have it," Russia told him.

Lithuania replied, "I couldn't, thank you… It would be too expensive."

"Don't worry," Russia answered. "I was even thinking… because I am having fun with you and you understand me… Could you tell the others? I might not need to see Latvia and Estonia now. You are enough."

 _It got worse_ , Lithuania cringed on the inside. _He might have been lying about seeing them. I might have been his intention all along_.

"I'll just take water," Lithuania answered.

"Then I will too. Do you want any appetizers?"

It was too much to handle. Lithuania felt sick to his stomach throughout the meal, as Russia continued to offer to treat him and focus so much on him. He hid it well however, leading Russia to see no fault with the situation. Rather, he was enjoying himself well and believed that Lithuania was as well.

"Dessert?" he asked. "What would you like?"

"We had cake and popcorn earlier. I think it is enough junk food for today."

"Okay. But how little you are letting me spend! When I have more to spend on you now… How about we get something for tonight?"

Lithuania sensed what he was implying, but asked anyway, "What do you mean?"

"Alcohol, of course!"

"Well, I have some at home already…"

"Then we will drink that _and_ something you pick out at the store! Sounds fun, _taip, Lietuva_?"

 _This seems more normal… But if he has any underlying intentions, I will have to make sure I don't drink too much and that he is drinking as well._

"Alright then…" Lithuania committed.

" _Net, net_ \- more excitement! It will be very fun. How often do we do this? We have to take advantage!"

When the bill came around, Russia gladly payed it. They exited and headed straight out to buy a special brand of whiskey for the occasion. Back at the house, both changed back into casual clothing and brushed their teeth. Russia thus felt thoroughly refreshed as he plopped onto the couch, where he commenced watching Lithuania collecting different sorts of alcohol and glasses for them to drink from.

"And you want to watch?" Russia inquired.

"Put on some sports." Lithuania lowered himself down beside him and began pouring Russia some of the new whiskey. Russia searched for the request, then set the remote down to toss back what he had been served. Lithuania watched that he finished it before he drank himself.

Russia was stil trying to not touch him even as they sat beside each other with no one around. It was a conscious effort on his part to make him comfortable, and Lithuania watched the screen with him, beginning to relax with the belief that Russia had gotten it all out of his system. They slipped into a peaceful silence, where they broke it only to comment on the players or to offer to fill each other's glasses with something else.

Varieties were poured down their throats, one after the other without counting. Lithuania slowed down at one point, but Russia was quick upon him, teasing then exclaiming, "It is okay to indulge yourself! We are unlike the others because we heal in a special way. It is impossible for this to do permanent damage to our bodies!"

"I suppose so…" Lithuania watched how Russia slurped back another. He had not stopped drinking, so he thought he should be safe to continue. It would look suspicious to stop regardless.

"That's the good spirit, _Lietuva_!"

Russia clapped him on the back then put vodka into both of their glasses. They repeated rounds of vodka until the warmth became too strong and pink permanently stayed on their faces. The events of television and everything around them grew a tad hazier. Lithuania languidly checked Russia, who was diligently drinking still. He took in more of the new whiskey until Russia chuckled without cause.

"You're beside Belarus." He prodded him suddenly. "You know what she's like, right?"

"Kind of..." Lithuania sank back into the couch. "I would like to know more though."

Russia tittered and tossed his head over.

"You know she is weird, yes? She prank calls people. She's done it to you. Did you know?"

"Yeah, it's great..." Lithuania smiled and looked up dreamily.

"She says all kind of strange things," Russia continued. "Creepy things. She'll say she can see ghosts around you."

"Ghosts?"

"Mm, she loves them. She wanted to see _all_ the haunted places in America. Ah, ah- America, he likes her more than me."

They drank.

"What do you think about Ukraine?" Russia asked.

"I don't know." Lithuania shrugged.

"What do you mean? Do you like her?"

"Not _like_ like… but she's alright. I don't talk to her _that_ often."

"So Belarus is your favorite of my sisters!"

"Yes."

More vodka ensued for both.

Russia laughed, "You are so obvious, but it is funny to me that she does not care about you!"

"Pssht, what do you mean? She held my hand before."

"To break it!" His laugh did not end. "She told me about it. All of your fingers- one for each direction!"

"That's just how she shows affection."

"Mm." Russia sipped then paused. "Maybe. I know she has a strange way of showing it to me. You know what she used to do? She'd break down doors trying to get to me."

"I wish she would do that for me." Lithuania grinned.

Russia giggled suddenly.

"What?" Lithuania asked.

"I just imagined," Russia snickered, "if she chased after Latvia like that!"

Lithuania bent forward with his chortle.

"Oh, the poor guy! He'd be terrified!"

Russia added, "Where would he hide? I think in a tiny place where she wouldn't look. Under the couch I think!"

Lithuania drank then slammed his glass down on the coffee table. He leaned over and pointed at the tiny crack under the couch. "You mean right there?"

Russia coughed, "Yes, yes- exactly!"

They both rolled away, laughs spewing in all directions.

"So what about someone else?" Russia asked. "Do you think anyone would like to be chased by her- besides you?"

"Oh yes, I know…" Lithuania nodded, then his smirk was let loose upon his face. "Definitely Sweden!"

Russia spluttered over his drink then guffawed. "You make me wonder if she should even dare!"

"Just imagine anyone," Lithuania chuckled. "And just try t'imagine. Just one look- then!"

"Mm, I wouldn't run. Sweden isn't scary to me." Then Russia leered at Lithuania. "How about you? He could beat you in a fight!"

"Nowadays…" Lithuania drawled. "But Nordics, they all peaceful now. Why worry, ah?"

"What about them?"

"They're alright I guess. I just wish Estonia'd stop acting like they're just the greatest. He doesn't fit in, you know? Finland likes 'im but he's not like them."

"Oh, oh- and Germany?" Russia exclaimed. "Tell me!"

"Smart," Lithuania slurred. "I mean… making stuff and recycling. Everyone pretty much likes him. Don't you?"

"Germany… I think we give him too much. I want this power too, of people listening to me…"

" _Ne_ …"

"I have opinions too but no one wants to be listening to me."

Lithuania fell toward the vodka, his eyes imagining it his glass before he put it there.

"You're great," Lithuania mumbled. "Don't worry."

" _Shto_?" Russia pressed his smile into the couch. The sounds of the game on television faded more and more although one ear was pointed toward it.

"Mm-hmmm… Today was _nice_."

"Aww, I am happy. I had lots of the fun with you too!"

Russia eyed up the whiskey bottle. With only a smidge left at the bottom, he grasped it and swung it to his mouth. A trickle spilled over his cheek as he consumed a single gulp, which he rubbed off with the glass neck of the bottle.

"Th'stuff's gone…" Russia breathed. "Ahh _blyat_ … And now I have to go."

"Are you leaving already?" Lithuania swung his head too fast and fell over as he went to regard Russia. "There's uh… mm. Vodka left. You love eating vodka."

"I know." Russia stood up and swayed. "I'm not leaving, I… where is bathroom?"

Russia wandered off. Lithuania slumped over the arm of the couch and set his blurred vision onto the screen. Strips of colour became intriguing, until he felt the tightness that indicated the alcohol-induced, powerful need to urinate. He trailed after where Russia had gone and went in after him, bumping against his hip then careening into the wall of the shower.

"Are you okay?" Russia wobbled and turned back.

He pushed himself up and nodded. " _Da, da, da._ "

"Maybe you drank too much?"

Lithuania closed the door and Russia left. He stumbled to the kitchen and stuck his mouth under the tap, gulping down water to give himself hydration. Russia was back on the couch before Lithuania returned, who dove down beside him.

"Want to put something better on?" Lithuania murmured. "Movie?"

"Mmm, okay.."

Russia selected one in English with Lithuanian subtitles. He settled and focused, trying to realize what was happening. The harder he tried though, the more tired he grew. The case with Lithuania was that instantly after he had suggested the change, he fell asleep. Outside of Russia's knowledge, Lithuania's eyes fell shut and he managed to doze in an upright position. Five minutes later, Lithuania tipped to the side and fell into him. He was startled awake, blinking and murmuring, " _Whaa_?"

Russia chuckled, "You fell asleep?"

Lithuania moved off him. "Yeah, sorry…"

Already, his eyelids began to droop. Russia watched in entertainment as they shut and Lithuania went limp again. He laughed, but even that did not wake him again. Russia shook him when he fell onto him again, pushing him up dazed and befuddled.

"It is like one time when you did this," Russia said. "You were exhausted from work and you fell asleep against me."

"Oh yeah…?"

Lithuania dipped down. Russia caught him then decided to balance him against his side. For a while he left him there without touching him, forgetting about his weight as he tried to watch the movie. Then he began to nod off as well, resisting at first but then giving in. Russia's head bowed and they were silent together, both breathing slowly and deeply. There went an hour spent, before Lithuania woke on his own.

"Ah…" He looked over. "Russia?"

No answer. Lithuania flopped back over and instantly forgot it was Russia he was lying against. He even forgot his verticalness, disorientated and now thinking he was horizontal. No longer was Russia a person, but a collection of blankets to him. Lithuania pulled at his shirt's arm, trying to adjust it. When he could not pull the blanket over him, he gave up and sought out softness. He held onto the lump, pulling himself closer when it would not come to him, then nuzzling in.

Russia was roused and he sleepily looked over to the side. When he caught sight of him, he was surprised but too tired to move much. With small movements, he curled an arm around him, then the other. This was all and he fell back asleep, until Lithuania squeezed him and rubbed his face against his ribs. It tickled quite pleasantly. Russia smiled himself awake and reached a hand up to comb Lithuania's hair.

"So nice… you…" Russia mumbled. "Thank you."

He tucked the hair behind his ear before stroking his smooth cheek. Lithuania was drawn into a lighter sleep, where his delusional thoughts dragged him to another place and he imagined someone else was caressing his face. Russia's gaze softened when Lithuania smiled; it seemed that he enjoyed this. He continued, tracing the ridge of his eyebrow then sweeping over the dent of his temple.

"See how I care about people…" Russia whispered. " _Aš tave myliu_."

Lithuania murmured, " _Aaa_ … _Aš tave myliu_ …"

Russia's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes? You mean this?" Russia gasped. "Aww, _Litva_ … I have been saying this to people since we were trapped, but you were the first to say it back to me!"

Russia hugged him and nuzzled him with a happy whine.

"You've been so nice to me. Such a good friend you are!"

Lithuania shifted into him but never did reply. Russia mistook this, thinking that he was only silent out of contentedness since he was still reacting to everything he did.

"Sweet _Lietuva_ …" Russia's face turned and he kissed his temple. "So kind to me…"

Lithuania moved and smiled, so Russia purred and continued. He held him close and placed more kisses over his face, each one stirring Lithuania closer to consciousness. Russia's mind drifted off from his drunkenness and joy, until he was hardly aware that he was murmuring repeatedly and slowly, " _Ya tebya lyublyu… Ya tebya lyublyu…_ " between his kisses as his fingers brushed back his hair.

Lithuania blinked open his eyes just as Russia sighed absentmindedly, " _I miss you guys… I wish you could always be around_ …"

There was a second of cloudiness, where Lithuania had to figure out the meaning of the feelings he sensed now, and decipher the sentence Russia had said. He identified them as _fingers_ in the hair of the back of his head, but then it took another one second before Lithuania knew that those were indeed _lips_ pressing against his forehead.

That was when everything clicked into place. Lithuania jolted and cried, "What are you doing?"

Russia yipped when he was slapped. He fell back as Lithuania scooted away, his heavy brain desperately trying to figure out what was happening.

"What the hell!" Lithuania screamed. "You- why did you do that? Why did you say that?"

"I don't understand!" Russia yelped. His heart picked up rapidly and his mind tried to clear itself up to handle the situation. "I don't understand!"

Lithuania could still detect the lingering feeling of soft lips around his face. He rubbed at them, his thoughts following into a straight and sober line as he shrieked, "I'm never going back, especially now! I see what you are! Controlling, power-hungry, abusive! We didn't help you, we made you worse! What have you become- a homo? You come here with presents and act so strange, telling me you love me- You got me drunk on purpose, didn't you? You wanted to take advantage of me!"

Russia leapt off the couch and hollered, "What? No! _No_! None of that! How could you think that? I thought you understood my intentions!"

Lithuania lunged and shoved him in the chest. Russia gasped, tottering back as the other barked, "You are a liar! Get out of here! You are horrible! You got me drunk to just- ah!"

Russia hurried away as the shoves continued.

"But I-I just…"

"Get _out_! I am going to tell everyone what you did to me!"

Russia caught onto his wrists as he was about to shove him again.

"Do not do that, Lithuania."

Lithuania wrestled but could not free himself from the grip. Panic snapped his body from side-to-side as Russia glared at him in utter severity.

"Stop it! Get the hell out of my house!"

Lithuania kicked him in the shin but Russia did not react. His grip tightened and Russia hissed, "You can't lie to anyone about me! Try to listen. I told you I wanted no one like that. Do _not_ call me what you did, and don't you dare say this to other people!"

"You were kissing me!"

"So? Don't parents do that do their children, and siblings to each other?"

"We're not related!"

"Do we _really_ need to be? I only care about you! How many times have I said this to you?"

"No, you don't! You are selfish! You wanted me for yourself!"

"No, no… Lithuania. I just wanted to be your friend."

He let go of him but instantly Lithuania attacked him, shoving him and kicking his tibiae to get him moving. "Stop it! Don't say that to me!" he screamed. "Leave me alone!"

"I misunderstood- I apologize!" Russia cried back as he avoided the aggression and looked to recapture their previous relaxed mood. "I thought you were okay with what I was doing!"

"Why would _anyone_ be with how you treat them?"

"You held me- You were smiling and you told me back that you love me!"

"No! You liar, you were just trying to-"

Russia accidentally backed into a corner. Lithuania sprang and with nowhere to move, Russia snatched onto his arms before they could harm him. There was fear again when those iron hands caught him, but then Russia threw him back with enough force that Lithuania was sent crashing onto his back. A cry on impact, then Russia raced over in concern that he had been too rough.

He had been gentle enough apparently, since Lithuania sprang at him, pushing his hands against his chest and driving him back. Russia shoved them away- "Lithuania, I won't do it again if it bothers you-"

"You've already done it!" A kick connected with his thigh. "And then what? You are going to fantasize about it?"

"Don't say such things!" Russia snapped, although did not strike him even after being kicked many times. Lithuania shoved him in the side as he tried to back away, just as Russia had been trying to escape confrontation and talk.

"I did not mean to upset you… the opposite it was. I wanted to be nice…"

"Get out!"

"Why did it change?" Russia cried. "Everything was fine in that building- didn't we all learn something?"

Through his teeth, Lithuania hissed, "We were wrong about you."

"No, Lithuania, you just want things to go back to how they were! That's why you started off so rude to me!"

With that final line, Russia raced to the front where he had left his suitcase. He grabbed his shoes but there was no time to put them on. Lithuania shoved him over so that he stumbled toward the door. Russia suffered through two hits before he hectically unlocked the door and lunged into the night. The entire suitcase was scooped up and he sprinted away from the glow of the door, fleeing from Lithuania's shout.

" _Leave_!"

Lithuania charged up to the door and panted, before his eyes sharpened and he watched Russia's form staggering off into the darkness. Once he had caught his breath, his hands came up to rub furiously at his face. Then, he backed off, closing the door as he did so. Lithuania locked it and felt immediately safer.

He placed his hand over his chest and felt his heart rate slowing now that Russia's presence had been eliminated. Lithuania could hardly believe that he had managed to drive him off, but without dwelling on the true reason as to why, he flopped onto the couch in relief and exhaustion.

After a break to recover, he called America under the grip of a massive headache.


	20. Любовь

His heart leapt and shivered, yet it was forbidden for anything to be seen. Every jitter that threatened to erupt as a twitch sank back down to the pulsating organ and cast it into further distress. The black gloves that barred pale hands from contact, curled and resisted the urge to tug on any clothes that did not need tending. All there was to it was to keep the expression neutral and posture full in the effort to hide his overwhelming fear.

Russia never let his gaze linger too long on any individual. When he entered the meeting room, he approached no one and held his tongue. Instantly a mob of eyes flickered over to trail his form as he strode up to an unoccupied spot on the wall. No one had taken a seat yet so he conformed and stood, although unlike the others, in a solitude. He leaned back and stared at nothing, listening to the change in respiration and the birth of whispers.

" _I did not expect him to show his face_ …"

" _What's going to happen?_ "

" _He'll get kicked out…_ "

Familiar voices, all of them. European accents and some German murmurs that all discussed his entrance and relayed the tale although Russia knew that everyone was already au courant. He did not sigh or intervene; they would do nothing to him. His fingers tapped the wall to find a folk tone that reverberated into his bones in order to calm his internal trembling.

Russia let the words fade from his attention as he wondered where the star of the show was. _To think this is America's meeting, yet he is not present…_ He glanced around and noted that not even Canada was here, who he expected would come only because the location was close enough. _Because although he does not say much, he feels just as justified as America to be in a European meeting._

When movement advanced in his peripheral vision, Russia snapped his attention toward it. Ukraine strolled nearer clad in a black suit and adorned even with a tie. Matching the utter formality of her attire, she nodded at him curtly and greeted him.

"Russia."

He affirmed, "Ukraine."

She passed him and only then could Russia see behind her, Belarus entering the room. Her sharp eyes found his promptly and a flash of surprise overtook her face, before it forcefully fell and she marched to the opposite side of the room.

" _Where is he going to sit_?" Finland's breathed question was barely caught by Russia's attentive ears.

Sweden rumbled, " _Not beside you_."

A chuckle arose from somewhere to his left. Russia did not want to look in case that was what they were hoping for, but he wondered with a slow, vexed blink who would dare laugh in this situation.

More movement as Britain moved up and nodded at him. "Russia."

He nodded back and responded just as directly. Russia partook in this nodding and naming game with France, and when Germany decided to come forth and greet him as well, they did just the same. With him however, Russia did not wish to end it there.

"Germany," he repeated, more quickly. "I want to ask…"

Germany turned back to him. "What is it?"

"How is it with Prussia?"

A glint of suspicion marked his gaze. Germany replied, "Why do you ask?"

Russia maintained his composure as the room quieted and focused on their louder conversation. "Because you left him home again although he wants to come. He really wants to come to our meetings, Germany. I think it would be nice to let him."

"It is not up to you to decide," he muttered back. "And _I_ would prefer that he stays somewhere safe."

Scorching pain cut deep, but Russia wondered if it was alright to feel it. He could not imagine himself as a victim to this treatment when he remembered how cruel he had been to Germany's brother. And yet, he remembered how the end had been and he despaired over this change.

 _It's back to normal, despite everything… It will never get better for me, I supp-_

A boisterous yell cut through all thoughts.

"Alright, everybody! Let's get this meeting rolling!"

America marched in with energetic purpose but halted when he saw Russia. Russia kept his facial expression as blank as possible while he expected America to demand his departure. After a second though, all that came was a hearty, "Hey, Russia- wassup? So you came?"

America moved closer as Russia responded, "Of course… Hello, America."

Russia did not move towards him. America came no closer either but he had paused to hear Russia's words. When it was clear that no more would come out of this exchange, he turned back to the grand table. Russia nearly gawked back as he was left to think, _Four months and this is all we have to say…! Why didn't you contact me? Why did you avoid me? It does not look like you hate me but… are we okay? Am I hated by your boss? Is anything going to happen? America. I want to talk to you, but not here. Not in front of these people._

America descended into the seat at the head of the table, crying out simultaneously, "Okay everyone, sit wherever!"

In secret, Russia panicked as peeved looks found him and people sank into their seats. It seemed that none of them wanted to be in his proximity. The Nordics stared in silence from across the table and the Baltics grouped together away from him. Romania tucked Moldova beside Belgium then sat down to trap him in between them. Switzerland copied this technique by encouraging Liechtenstein beside Hungary, although his warning glare towards Russia rivaled the hostile one of Czechia.

Russia was in fact, struggling to figure out which of his acts were disturbing them. The incident in January was undoubtedly notorious, yet he did not know if the story of what had happened with Lithuania had spread to them all. If so, it might be the more relevant reason as to why they were ostracizing him.

 _I really hope they don't know about that_ … Russia thought. _It is so easily misinterpreted._

Whatever it was, it left the smaller countries terrified of him. Even the quiet and forgettable Macedonia stared at him with horror from the corner. Russia's eyes swept over the rapidly filling-up seats and he decided that he did not want to be the last one standing. Then it struck him as he padded away from the wall, that he could sit beside America. With the corner between them and his already seemingly friendly attitude, it could suffice.

He committed but America said nothing and did not even acknowledge his presence. Russia then pretended not to be watching the empty seat beside him, just until Canada appeared at the doorway bearing a stack of boxes. Hardly anyone noticed him at first, although Russia did instantly and was quick to read the side of the identical pieces of cardboard.

Servants manifested behind Canada as he slipped in. America tossed his head back, smiled, then exclaimed, "Alright, pizza's here!"

Russia could not keep himself from furrowing his eyebrows. _Is he serious? This is a formal setting and yet…_

Then utter fear struck him and a burst of adrenaline dilated his pupils. _Unless- this could be to get revenge on me! He has avoided me for so long. Perhaps he really hates me and is going to great lengths to get back at me!_

There were paper plates going around and much of the interest for Russia was redirected. Some of the servants were offering beverages but Russia could only feel a flush of heat throughout his body. He spotted Spain gladly accepting something from off the cart, then he regarded another servant making their way down the opposite side of the table. When he heard America's voice rise up beside him, Russia looked over just as he took some Coca Cola.

"What would you like, sir?"

From behind his ear, the question had come upon Russia. Hoping that America would not notice his hesitation, his mind shot through his options as quickly as he could. _I usually take water in these situations but that is what is most likely going to be drugged. The alcohol might be too because he thinks that is what I am always drinking, but then again his doubt might have made him drug everything. His own drink might be drugged._

"I will be fine," Russia answered.

 _Yes, I will have to watch him. He might not drink at all._

Shock lit up on America's face. Russia's heart skipped.

 _He wanted me to drink! I must have made him angry by refusing. What will he do now?_ But then Russia tried to calm himself down by deciding, _No, I am clever, clever. I will outsmart him and get through this. Let's see if he has failed and everyone will fall unconscious soon._

When Russia finally noticed that Canada had appeared beside him, his pulse bounced again. _When I was distracted, he snuck up on me._ His eyes narrowed as he looked all over Canada. The other person had his head turned away as he spoke to a servant, so Canada was unaware of Russia's scrutinizing stare.

America saw all his reactions however, and frowned. He peeked at the other members of the meeting first to make sure that they were all momentarily distracted and that all servants were far from him. Only then did he sneak his hand under the table to try and find Russia's knee. He missed and hit the wooden leg, but began to mumble anyway, "Russia…"

He wanted to tell him that it was okay, but immediately the word _Russia_ had caught attention. Everyone forgot their food and drinks instantly and snapped their heads up to him.

"Right, what are you going to do, America?" Portugal asked. "Surely, you can't let his actions go unpunished!"

 _Which actions?_ Russia wondered. _How much do you know?_

America's hand withdrew from the table leg and set itself onto the smooth, gleaming tabletop with the other one. Russia never noticed how close his hand had come to him, that America had been on the verge of revealing himself.

"He hurt nations!" Denmark threw out. "So what will you do?"

Slovakia said, "Strike him back, or he will do it again!"

A chorus of calls agreed, but many were asking for a nonviolent resolution.

"America," Germany uttered. "Something needs to be done. Sanction him. Sanction him, then let the meeting proceed."

A fierce glare of ice was triggered but Russia said nothing.

"That is good," France murmured. "Let's keep it at that."

America sat still and kept his hands clasped on the wood. His food and soda were ignored as he took in the cries of these smaller nations. He glanced at Russia to find him glaring at him with menace, those violet irises seeming to have a darker ring around them. When he was led to his pupils, he knew exactly what Russia was thinking.

 _Do not do this after everything we have been through._

America hoped that despite the severe face he was putting on, Russia could read his thoughts.

 _Russia, I have to. These people want justice and this is the best I can give you. They won't respect me if I let this go. They're all looking at me_.

Turkey spoke up, "He's never been stopped by itsy-bitsy sanctions! He keeps doing what he wants in Ukraine after all, even though you kicked him out of the G8!"

"Give him something else." Lithuania shot his haunted eyes at America. "Something worse."

He brushed them off with a raised hand.

"I was there," America muttered. "I will decide what punishment goes with the severity of his actions."

 _We were close_ , Russia's eyes said, but not his facial expression. America held his gaze and willed his remorse to be reached by him while trying not to let anyone else see it. It was an impossible task. Russia's eyes grew wide as America lowered his eyebrows and turned his head away. More of the white became visible as America let out a long sigh that indicated an imminent, powerful statement.

"Russia, the following businesses will be affected…"

Instantly his heart dropped into his gut. Russia blinked slowly, caught up in shock until he remembered how to feel anything else. Anger sparked and crackled like electricity inside him. America could sense it all like tongues of flame tasting his side, and he could not bear to look at Russia. Before, he would have proudly stared him down. Now though, he felt Russia slipping away from him and the barrier between them growing higher.

Russia thought, _So are you angry because I would not eat or drink? Is this how you get back at me? Or is it all because you don't care about me at all. Arrogant, controlling- back to the basics. We learned nothing, or at least, I did. I will change, but I don't think you ever will. But even if I fail, at least I tried when you didn't._

And because America never even looked at him as he relayed the list, Russia let out a pressured exhale and believed that it was all an act of haughtiness.

"Now…" America said. "Enough of that. That is not why we are here."

America flashed a quick look at Russia to check on how he was faring. He nearly jolted to see the amount of fury upon his face, when normally he would have taken his sanctions as though they were trivial and amusing. He felt betrayed, but America could say nothing to him.

 _Russia, I had no choice._

But Russia could not see it

 _I hate you, America._

It was over. Russia gave up on the glaring and sat back into his chair with his eyes falling shut. His heart rocked with its beats and Russia focused upon its spasms while the others proceeded. They forgot about him once Britain reintroduced them as to why they had come here, the true topic that had nothing to do with him. Russia had not prepared for it when all he could think of up to this meeting was how he would be punished. Now though, he thought of the two days that this meeting was booked for.

 _I should participate then, so that everything returns to normal if that is all I can do_ , Russia thought. _I will try to follow along_.

Already there had been responses to Britain's words. He now replied, "The lack of sharing technology is a hindrance to developing Europe. There are many of us who have high-quality technology, excellent and more efficient. Normally it would be sold for our own profit, but the nations that cannot afford it, cannot buy it."

"How much should we expect of them though?" Spain contributed. "I mean, how much should we give and how much should they be expected to do themselves?"

"There needs to be independence," America nodded.

"What do we need to do about education then?" Britain continued. "Because no matter what, the countries particularly in the East need new technology. Not only for development, but especially since new technology does not come with nearly as much environmental disadvantages. We all live on the same world, so their pollution is our problem."

Russia thought, _They mean me when they say East. Are they implying that my place is not developed enough? They do not have the right to say this about me. And I cannot let everyone take these new things when they are currently relying on me for raw resources! I hate this meeting. They are acting concerned but it will harm me._

He could only listen for a bit longer until he broke into the conversation. He bluntly voiced his contempt for their ideas and claimed that it would harm the economical relationships existing between the Eastern European countries.

"Sacrifices will have to be made by all of us," Germany uttered. "The state of the environment is becoming more of an issue."

The points continued, but Russia was persistent here and there. He did not want to talk too much and win rancor from them, although it was inevitable in the end. The meeting was tough to proceed when even some had started to agree with Russia. He raised himself up and made his composure seem as professional as possible. He had even begun to praise himself for making themselves focus on the him of the now and not what he had done in the recent past.

Then, Russia noticed the bristling irritation in America. He was close enough to feel the vibrations of a tapping foot and see the rigidness of his muscles. When they took a pause, America caught up to Russia in the hall. He had heard him and had tried to quicken his pace, but swiftly a hand snatched his shoulder and whipped him around.

"Why are you being so difficult?" America hissed.

"Me?" Russia blinked, trying to appear cool-headed. "What do you mean? I am only saying my opinions like everyone else."

"You're just mad about the sanction!" he exclaimed. "Now you're holding back the meeting!"

Some smaller nations passed them, looking back in concern before moving on ahead.

"The sanction…" Russia growled. "Why did you listen to them? Why didn't you message me, America? Why are you treating me like this?"

America caught sight of Britain stalking purposefully over to them. He would be in earshot, so he could only mutter, "You can't expect that I would let you go free after what you did. I had to do _something_. So just accept it and stop being so infuriating!"

Britain pulled on America's arm and uttered, "Back off, both of you. No more."

" _Infuriating_?" Russia breathed coldly. "This is what I feel about you, for the way you are treating me."

"Enough!" Britain barked. "Come on, America."

"Look, I haven't got any choice, so get off my back!" America snapped. "You were the one who brought this on yourself, drugging people and holding them hostage!"

Those that had remained in the meeting room looked up and peered into the hall.

"That's what you believe…" Russia spoke through gritted teeth.

"Believe? You did it!"

Britain was growing concerned by the frigid clarity of Russia's eyes. He tugged harder on America, only successful in moving his arm back.

"I thought you knew why I did it, America."

"Doesn't mean I can just excuse you for hurting people!"

"You ruined everything. We could have been moving on and improving."

" _I_ ruined everything?" America huffed quietly. "With how you assaulted Lithuania? With how strange you are acting today?"

Russia's hands scrunched up into fists. His body quivered, then after the pause he breathed, "Why didn't you call me? I needed you but you weren't there... I didn't know what to do and I made mistakes because… But if it were not for China, I do not know how much worse I would have been now."

America gawked as Russia slipped past him down the hall. The annoyance faded and he tossed a troubled glance at Britain. Britain raised his brows as he watched Russia's departing form, then he looked back to America and said, "He is acting strange because he is lonely. He can't separate control and affection, and he is stressed because he has sort of realized this. We know this now but not everyone does…"

"Did I make the right choice today?" America whispered. "I feel like I made it worse."

"You took the most peaceful option."

"It never seems enough when it comes to him. Nothing really changes, except for our emotions. They just worsen."

Britain murmured, "You may have been obligated in public, but it does not have to be how you always treat him. As you can see, Russia does not know you worry for him. You should therefore see him in private, since you are concerned about how people will treat you for appearing to be his friend."

"It's hard though, talking to him without anyone finding out about it. Rumors fly around whenever I interact with him and people will distrust me if it looks like I am too close to him."

"Do something," Britain said. "If you can make peace with Russia, please do it. Everyone will benefit from it."

America dropped his shoulders. He looked down the empty hall where Russia had long since exited, then replied slowly, "Tonight then... I'll think of something."

* * *

The tedious crawl of the meeting passed when they finally reached five o'clock. Russia wanted to spring from his chair but he forced himself to slowly depart like the others, filing in out the door into the hall. In this way he managed to hear America's whoop, a call for an after-meeting party at a club whose name Russia instantly forgot. While they were some perks and agreeing sounds, Russia's face remained stone and his heart distant.

America raised himself up onto the tips of his toes to catch sight of Russia. He followed everyone else as the servants stayed and cleaned up the mess left behind. Trying not to make it obvious, America pushed past no one but kept Russia in his sights. When they dispersed throughout the parking lot, he stalked Russia to his car. Just after he had seated himself, America tapped at the window with a neat turn of his hand.

"Hey," he murmured after the window had slid down. "You should come with us."

"I do not want to."

"I think it could help you, to come," America continued softly, looking around to confirm if anyone could see them. For those that went by, America looked over with a concentrated expression to pretend he was only telling off Russia.

"No." Russia shook his head gently. "I do not want to get drunk and do something bad."

"About Lithuania…" America started.

Russia jolted. "I want that to be forgotten. I will go now."

He reached over and began to roll up the window. America's brows shot up and he gasped, "You don't have to drink! Dude, just hang out with us!"

Russia paused with the window still opened a wide crack. "No one wants me there," he murmured. "Me being there would ruin it, I know this… I will see you tomorrow."

America stood in disquiet as the window fully closed and Russia started the car. He turned his head and followed its retreat, eyes locked onto Russia's doleful form sinking back into the seat. Russia espied him in the rear-view mirror, strolling slowly across the parking lot just before he would turn onto the road. The body he saw had loose, hanging arms that swung, and a poor posture like one of an exhausted runner.

 _He is troubled… It seems that he wants to do something for me, although all we did was hate each other for hours_ , Russia pondered. _I really don't know how he feels about me_ _and how I should about him. Such a strange relationship, but maybe something actually has changed since that time…_

* * *

The evening became a lonesome experience, a dinner seated at a table for two under the low light of the restaurant interior. Russia peered out the window at the black world spotted with glaring lights, searching for stars but finding none beyond the dark clouds of stretched cotton. He sighed upon exiting the restaurant and stepping out onto the sidewalk, one clack following the other until he stopped and gazed around himself.

 _I want to walk…_

He did not want to stay still. The powerful urge came suddenly to carry his heart away, to go and explore and forget the torment of today's meeting. And so he set off, keeping track of his route but also becoming entranced by the neon signs and buildings around him. He wound his way around the city and ended up in a park, lying on the grass and gazing up at the unchanging sky.

Such a peaceful, warm breeze rolled over him, easing him into closing his eyes. Russia lay and listened to the sounds of life around him, just as he always enjoyed doing. The sounds of people walking and conversing made him feel less alone, even if he did not know them. Eventually he rose and continued on, hoping all the while that he would not stumble upon the club everyone else had gone to and get caught on his walk. His head turned from left-to-right, curious and tranquil whether he was reading the names of closed shops or passing by alleys occupied by pairs of narrowed eyes.

Once the muscles in his legs began to feel weighted by lead, he returned to his car. Russia drove to the Days Inn hotel that everyone had been booked in, but saw no one familiar hanging around the lobby. He directed himself straight to his room and sighed in relief once the door was closed behind him. Once locked up, he brushed his teeth and threw himself into the shower. The wonderful feeling of his soft pajamas and the untouched sheets against his back soon came, forcing a trill out from him as he squeezed a pillow.

 _I am happy I did not go to a club_.

Russia buried his smile into the pillow.

 _Tomorrow will pass. Today was not so bad. It could have been worse._

He breathed softly and wondered if he should call it a night, either going to sleep or staying up and watching some TV. He decided he would rest to better survive tomorrow, but first he opened up his laptop and checked for anything important. After, Russia packed it away then walked over to the door to turn off all the lights.

The door next to him banged just as the light vanished. Russia gasped and punched the light switch, then leaned forward to peer through the peephole. His eyelashes batted over the glass when he saw nothing there outside. Frowning, he unlocked the door and yanked it open, standing broad and staring fiercely into the night.

Over the pavement was a form half curled, half sprawled. Russia's eyes flew open and he exclaimed, "America!"

There was a groan and he fully curled up into a ball. Russia stepped forward, leaning down and gasping, "What happened? Why are you here?"

"Russ...ia…" he gurgled. "What…?"

"You are drunk?" Russia breathed. "Or something else?"

"M'room…"

"I do not know where your room is."

America shifted and pulled himself into a kneeling position. He swayed then focused his weary eyes behind Russia. "There… thanks…"

He lurched forward toward him, but immediately his feet twisted and he tripped. Russia gasped, starting to raise his arms before panicking and hopping back. There was a moment where he dreaded America would fall and bust his face off the floor, but fortunately America careened into the side of the doorway and pawed his way to balance.

"This isn't your room, America," Russia whispered. "Where is your key?"

America closed his eyes and touched his forehead to the door frame. Russia observed his hand clawing at his stomach before America emitted a pained groan.

"Ah, ah…" he whined. "It hurts so fucking much…"

Russia reacted when it seemed that America was about to vomit over the entrance. He stepped forward, fell back, then murmured, "Come inside, America."

He did not move. Russia did not want to touch him, so he repeated, "Come inside."

America rocked his head back then dragged his body over, spasmodic and with uncontrollable, zombie-like movements. Russia wanted to catch him and lead him, but he restrained himself, pointing him only to the bathroom and opening the door for him. He bid him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and there America waited until Russia took a styrofoam cup, filled it with water, then gave it to him.

"Drink this," Russia whispered.

America's hands shook but he was able to bring the cup to his mouth. The water vanished immediately and Russia soon refilled it for him. Then, he watched America's breathing as he hung his head and tilted.

"I do not think you have alcohol poisoning," Russia said. "But you had too much. You need to drink a lot of the water to feel better."

Russia detected the stink of alcohol and bodies on him. He fetched his travel-sized mouthwash and passed it to him. "Have some, but do not drink it. Swish it in your mouth, okay? Do not drink this."

Russia repeated it again just as America swung it to his mouth after he had twisted off the cap. He watched his throat but then after some time, America spat the mouthwash into the toilet and leaned back. Russia hurried forward just as it seemed he would fall, but then he pulled back once more nervously. America collapsed into the shower curtain and cried out when he crumbled into the tub with a resounding bang. Russia cringed and finally collected him, sitting him up and making sure he was alright.

He wondered what else he could do for him. He sniffed at America's dirty suit which he had worn all day, then murmured, "I will give you something to wear."

"Mmkay…"

"Do you think you could…" Russia dropped his eyes to the floor. "Actually, maybe showering is too much for you."

"Nahh..."

"Clothes should be enough."

Russia left him sitting and hurried, worried that America would fall back again. He found some of the extra clothes he had packed for himself, some track pants and a cotton shirt. He passed them off to America but paused before leaving. Russia turned back and reached out his hand to America's face. With minimal contact, he dragged off his glasses, folded them, then backed away cautiously.

The door was closed and Russia walked back to the two single beds. He set the glasses onto the nightstand between them then sat down and waited. When many minutes passed, Russia headed over in concern. He had just been about to call if he was alright, but then he heard the flushing of the toilet and backed off. He lay back down on the bed and listened to America washing his hands, impressed that he had not forgotten to do so. Then however, the stomping footsteps came over and America curved into the bed Russia was lying on.

Russia jumped out and walked around the bed. America clutched at the blankets and threw them over himself as he flopped back into the mattress. More water was fetched which he had America drink, then Russia left a filled cup beside him and one for himself.

"TV…" America drawled. "Put on… I wanna see…"

"No," Russia exhaled. "You should rest. The light might be hurting your eyes."

He seemed to have already forgotten his request. America sank back and lifted up his chin, all of his soft face closing up and going still. Russia blinked and looked over him, then wandered over to the air conditioning and turned it on.

The rumbles of the machine filled the room as Russia relocked the door and turned off the lights. He slipped into the other bed and lay on his side, staring across the grey to where America lay. Then after some seconds, Russia's voice arose.

"America?"

"Nnn…"

"Can you try to remember?"

"What…"

Russia said, "How you got here. I don't want to get in trouble in the morning."

"I c'n remember."

A sigh puffed past Russia's lips. "You won't… Ah, it is fine. We will deal with this later."

Russia took one of the pillows and tucked it between his knees. He snuggled into the blankets and soon was able to fall asleep from the day's exhaustion. At one point during the night, he heard movement when America trampled his way to the bathroom. Russia dozed again while he was in it, but was startled awake when a heavy weight plopped down beside him.

"America, your bed is over there..." he grumbled.

No answer. Russia let out a breath through his nose then crawled out, leaving him to this bed while he took his old one. He fell asleep and remained undisturbed until morning, where he naturally woke but soon picked up on the sound of the shower running.

Russia flashed up. _He is conscious. America must know where he is but… what will he say when he comes out?_

Russia discarded the blankets and shut off the AC. He marched through the chill of the room to his suitcase, where he searched for what he would wear at today's meeting. Embarrassed to be caught in pajamas, he swiftly changed into his suit and dress pants. He washed his face then snatched a comb as the water continued to cascade in the other room. There was a long mirror against the wall that he stood in front of to fix his hair, but just as he finished, the door to the bathroom swung open.

America stepped out with a white towel secured around his waist. Russia turned and watched him with a nervous glance, wondering how he would address him.

"I'll be right back."

Russia blinked as America then headed towards the door. He started to unlock it but as he opened it, he peaked out. Birdsong slipped into the room and the wind smelling of dew-covered grass washed over them.

"Where are you going?" Russia whispered.

"My room's beside yours."

Russia cocked his head as America hurried out. He stepped back towards the beds and affirmed that America's glasses were indeed still folded on the nightdesk, like a promise that he really would come back.

 _But why is he choosing to come back…?_

Russia left the door unlocked but headed to the unoccupied bathroom. He was waiting on the bed checking his laptop by the time America came back dressed in formal attire. America set Russia's folded clothes beside the TV then spun around to meet Russia's unsure eyes.

"What made you change your mind about touching people?"

Russia furrowed his eyebrows at the question. America continued.

"You wouldn't touch me or anyone else at the meeting."

"I didn't want to do something wrong," Russia murmured. "And then… I listened to what China told me. He came over some times and reminded me of January, then he gave me more of the tips."

America moved forward and sat on the bed beside him. Promptly, Russia created distance between them and looked uncomfortable.

"What did China say?" America asked.

"Mmm… He told me everything that bothered him when people unexpectedly touch him. He said that is how other people feel around me..." Russia sighed. "And after Lithuania… I really wanted to listen. He also said something that I am trying to listen very closely to: 'Don't hold other people. Let them hold you until they want you to touch you.' So I think that if I am not starting anything, then it will get better."

"It sounds good," America agreed. "Just… why wouldn't you let me touch you last night? You kept avoiding me."

"So you remember?"

"Oh no. Russia, I was not drunk. I was just pretending to see what you would do."

"What?"

"I only had like one drink then I left. Everyone made fun of me for calling it quits, but I wanted to find you. I wondered about how much Lithuania was exaggerating or if you would use my 'drunkenness' to get some information or revenge."

Russia replied, "I was worried that if something happened to you, I would get in trouble."

America dropped his head, appearing disappointed. "Really? Is that your reason?"

"One of them…" he mumbled.

"Oh?"

Russia asked, "Does everyone know about what happened with Lithuania? What did he tell you?"

"Ah." America shrugged. "That you got him drunk on purpose then sexually harassed him. I made him explain more, then when I found out you had only kissed him, I relaxed. I got him to breathe and calm down, then I told him to sleep and not worry about it. I said I would take care of it and that I didn't want him doing anything else. So, no one else knows I think. Just us, him, and whoever else you told."

"Okay, this is relief. But why did you relax? Did you trust me?"

"I thought your intentions were good. I heard you spent the whole day with him, so it was interpreted wrong. And if Lithuania could drive you out of his house, it means you weren't really trying to fight him back."

"Mm-hmm…"

America scooted closer. Russia looked to the edge he was near, then moved up the bed.

"So then… why is it that you are avoiding me now?" America inquired.

"I don't know what kind of relation we should have. No one wants us to be friends. It might not work out."

"They don't have to know."

Russia turned his head as America moved closer. "What do you mean?"

"You know. Hating each other in public, but actually buds in secret."

"They will figure it out," Russia murmured. "They will suspect it."

"But they will never be sure. All they can do is speculate."

"I suppose this…"

America smirked. "So...?"

Russia put his laptop onto the floor but insisted, "This is too strange, isn't it? I started to think about it and I do not think it is right to treat men who are not related to me like I did."

Yet when America slid his arms around him, he did not resist. Russia sank into him, breathing feebly, "I can't…"

"Shhh…"

"I shouldn't do this."

"You can't expect that depriving yourself will do any good," America told him. "And I can't let you go off and do crazy things. I also won't let you cry anymore. So, I need you to rely on me. Whether you are sad, lonely, or whatever, we can talk when no one is around."

Russia hesitantly held him back. When he did not push him away, he squeezed a little tighter.

"Not so hard," America advised him.

"Okay."

He let off a bit, embracing very gently then setting his face into his neck. After some time, Russia worried that he was hugging for too long. He retreated. "We should go down for breakfast now."

"Breakfast just started… What's the rush? Stay here, Russia. I am giving you a chance."

"I am afraid to be too affectionate… It cannot be right. Now I think about these things because of what Lithuania yelled at me. And I do not want to be called what he called me."

America dropped his arms. "The affection is only dangerous when it hurts people. That's what you should worry about."

"Hmm…"

"Stay with me. If you do it, I will take you to IHOP after. That'll be much better than the hotel breakfast."

"I hop?"

"Pancake place."

Russia's forehead wrinkled.

"No then?" America asked.

"I want this, but…"

America snatched the remote and powered on the TV. Russia had about a minute to relax as America searched for a cartoon to put on. He tilted towards him, eyes closed as he debated over what to do. An arm was felt around him and Russia completely submitted, letting himself be gently pulled back. They lay on the bed and Russia's head was guided to set itself over his chest. Russia hung a loose arm around him and peeked over at the shenanigans on the screen, before he ignored it all and nuzzled into the suit.

"It won't be secret forever," America sighed then looked toward the carefully brushed, ashen hair. "One day, they will accept you."

He lay his hand over his head and felt the silkiness. America followed the direction of his hair then restarted, caressing the back of his head until Russia whispered, "Why don't you hate me, even when we fought so much yesterday?"

"Why don't you hate me?" He turned the question back onto him.

"I could never hate you completely, America. Throughout history, there was always some part of you I did not mind."

"Same," he replied softly. "No matter how much you irritate me sometimes, whether I want to punch your face in… I don't really hate you. Your culture's cool, for one. It has its own power and pride and I dig it."

America's hand drifted down to his neck. Russia went limp, but America observed, "Your pulse is fast."

"Because I am still worried."

"I won't hurt you."

Russia inhaled slowly. "I mean about what will come. The result of getting close to you."

"Whatever… Don't worry 'bout a thing."

When America's fingers pressed into the scars on the back of his neck, Russia finally realized that for the entire interaction he had been scarfless. He did not grow distressed however, but in fact because he had forgotten, happiness sprouted within him. Russia pressed into him more and smiled, letting him massage his neck for as long as he liked.

Both gasped and shot up at the knock at the door. Russia snapped his head to America, who soon rolled over the side of the bed and disappeared.

"Who is it?" Russia stood up, calling and walking into sight of the door.

The unlocked door was pushed open and Germany revealed himself.

"Ah, good morning," he announced. "I was told to check if you had made it back alright since no one knew where you had gone after the meeting."

"Who asked this?" Russia wondered.

Germany dipped his head and turned it to the side. "Anyway," he went on, ignoring his question. "We will see you at ten."

The door closed again and Germany left them. America popped up from behind the bed with a laugh, crossing his arms and setting them onto the mattress. Russia smiled but could not help himself from feeling disappointed.

"If they were worried…" he exhaled as he backed up toward the beds. "Why didn't they ask last night?"

"They were probably tanked," America quipped from behind him.

Russia still brooded, "And who was wondering…?"

"Oh, that one's obvious. Germany wanted to know."

"Him?"

"Some of them do care about you but don't want to express it openly. Germany was there with us too, after all."

Russia dropped his sorrow and beamed. He turned back to America and gasped when he was already kneeling on the bed beside him. He tackled him them yanked him back, forcing Russia to fall partially on him, smiling and already squirming to hold him. Russia resumed his previous position but felt now a lot more relaxed and peaceful doing it.

"It feels like there is nothing wrong with the world when I am here," Russia admitted. "I was worried to think like this, but I cannot be helping it. It feels safe here."

"It is. No matter how we fight, let's always come back to this, okay? I want you to always have a person there for you, so I'll be that person."

Russia's fingers curled over America's ribs. "Thank you… I want to say that I love you but…"

"Hey," America prodded him. "The interpretation is up to us. As long as you don't say that to me in front of other people, there shouldn't be a problem."

"If you do not mind then…" Russia sighed. "Then I love you. Right now at least, and again and again."

"We'll put on a show for them," America said. "And for times like this… _Ya tozhe_ _tebya lyublyu_."

They rested there together for many more long and harmonious minutes. Then, with regret lowering his voice, America murmured, "We have to get going now or else we'll be late for the meeting."

They slid out of the bed and Russia grabbed the essentials. As he wrapped his scarf around his neck, he asked America, "You have everything already?"

"Yep." America slipped on his glasses then moved ahead to the door. Russia headed after him quickly to catch him one more time before they would have to separate themselves in public. America turned and hugged him, dragging his fingers down his back and feeling how once again, Russia instantly relaxed into him.

"Pancakes?" America murmured after enough time had passed.

Russia stood back and smiled at him. "Yes, I would like this."

They checked if anyone else was outside, then they snuck out. Russia crept into America's car and hoped that no one would notice them, all the while hoping that someone would see them. Just as they sat beside each other and fastened their seat belts, America grinned.

"You know, they have so many different kinds of pancakes and I am curious about what you will chose."

Russia leaned towards him and smiled again. "Is America trying to get to know me better?"

America set down his keys, deciding not to start the car just yet.

"We'll get there, comrade," he smirked. "Just you wait. Pancakes is just the start!"


End file.
